


Snitch

by CharlieNozaki



Series: Snitch [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Martial Arts, Parent-Child Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 161,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieNozaki/pseuds/CharlieNozaki
Summary: Sanji Vinsmoke didn’t know what he expected to find following that sound into the Baratie’s alley in the middle of the night, but it was certainly not a little girl. And it was certainly not a little girl punching things to smithereens. But she isn’t the problem. Her father is.[Modern AU. (Slow burn) ZoSan. OCs. Angst. Drama. Includes artwork.]





	1. Lost and Found

Once upon a time, there was a handsome, swashbuckling pirate prince of a formidable kingdom. He sailed the seas, chivalrous and brave, protecting his crew with great strength in battle, doing everything within his power to support his friends’ dreams, while pursuing his own with reckless abandon.  


He was as dashing as they came----tall and lean, perfect locks falling stylishly over one eye like a shimmering curtain of gold. He would never allow himself to be seen looking anything but his finest. If he wasn’t the best-dressed in the room, then----well, that never happened.  


Cigarette poised between lips, he was quick to smash a designer shoe in the face of anyone who dared oppose him, quick to sneer perfectly-timed insults of witty malice that often stung as much as his kicks.  


But he was often quicker to forgive. For kind was he, this prince. Despite the trials and tribulations of his childhood (and yes, there were countless), he had a warm heart, one with immeasurable capacity for love---love for his dear friends, and for women everywhere, for whom he had _great_ respect.  


He had an amazing talent for the culinary arts like few had ever seen. His creations could invigorate the body as well as any medicine, fortify the soul as much as any amount of physical affection.  


This prince was feared by his enemies, adored by his comrades, a true hero for the ages.  


He could have whatever he pleased, _whomever_ he pleased. In fact, by the end of his journeys, he _had_ taken a beautiful princess as his bride, opened his own world-renowned restaurant at that place where his dreams came true, living out his days exactly as he’d always imagined.  


Life was an amazing adventure for this man…..  


Sanji Vinsmoke’s life, on the other hand, was quite the opposite.  


For Sanji Vinsmoke was no prince, and it would be foolish to think so. He was anything but perfect.  


His hair was certainly not _golden_ \---just an ordinary, shabby blond, shaggy and longer, not to be stylish, but because he didn’t have fucking _time_ for a haircut on his work schedule at the Baratie.  


He was more lanky than anything, all legs, but it wasn’t like he’d landed any shitty magazine covers, had he. No, he was far too average for that, he supposed.  


He didn’t have the money for expensive designer clothes; he’d never been as good as his siblings at anything, especially not martial arts. Even if he’d held his own against others, sparring against his brothers had always been hopeless. In fact, according to his brothers, the only thing he _was_ good at was ratting people out.  


But with a dead mother and a father who played favorites in a way that borderlined neglect, well---what good was that skill?  


It didn’t matter. Not much did really when his life continued as uneventfully as it was.  


It had been over a year now, after all, since his father had died too. Since anything in the way of excitement or true _contentment_ had graced his life. And despite the support of his sister, and his friends, his boss, Zeff (who’d honestly been more of a father to him than his own)….he couldn’t help but feel like his life really was on a fast track to nothing.  


A far too frequently occurring glance down at his now-empty ring finger might have fueled those feelings a bit.  


Pathetic, really, for a thirty-one-year-old to be so damn morose over such a thing, as if he’d forgotten what happiness was. What it was to look at her with love and joy, what it was to feel revitalized and strengthened---to feel his creativity soar in the kitchen as a result.  


If he couldn’t stop himself from wallowing over those lost emotions as well as any brooding teenager, then what the hell business did he have trying to make others happy with his food?  


It was stupid. It was so stupid.  


But it was also something the world never saw.  


For there was a lot of pretense to Sanji Vinsmoke’s life, perhaps more than he even knew himself, and that was the way he liked it. No one ever saw him upset or unhappy, at least not with himself.  


His problems were his alone. He’d sooner accept his friends’ problems on top of his; he’d do anything to help them. But his private woes never saw the light of day.  


Perhaps that was why they were coming out now, as they often did, in the late hours of overtime when he was the last one in the restaurant.  


Zeff never complained, so long as he didn’t waste too much electricity. The gruff old man seemed to quite appreciate it, in a vaguely irritated sort of way, and usually hung up his tall hat an hour before Sanji, retreating to his apartment upstairs and leaving the rest to his insomniac of a sous chef.  


This was, perhaps, the most relaxing part of his day, but it was usually the most lonely.  


_“----Reports say the gang was linked to last year’s drug bust at the old Germa factory building on 66th Street. However, no incriminating evidence has been uncovered thus far. As of now, the case remains unsolved, and, well, it quite literally cannot be expressed in words. For your eleven o’clock news, this is Tsubaki on the scene----Now---”_  


The cook clicked off the TV with a sigh, realizing he’d been staring blankly at the screen for long enough to make his eyes hurt, his forgotten cigarette burned to a near stub between fingers. Silence persisted in the empty dining room, most of the lights dimmed, save for the ones still illuminating the bar at which he sat.  


He didn’t even have a drink. And these days, he hated the feeling of sitting here alone, even if he’d used to indulge this as one of his favorite spots for brainstorming. Why the hell had he sat down?  


Fuck if he knew, but it was late after a damn busy day.  


He could feel fatigue pulling at his eyes, enough to draw a yawn from him. Time to shower and go to bed. Thankfully, his own apartment was upstairs too, adjacent to Zeff’s. These late nights were some of the only times he actually found this fact to be a blessing rather than a curse. The last thing he wanted to do was trek across the city just to get home.  


He took one last drag of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in a nearby ashtray. Sanji slid off the swiveling barstool, loosening his tie and running fingers back through his hair with some distaste. It felt far too greasy from kitchen steam and fumes.  


Sighing, the blond grabbed his uniform jacket off the low back of the stool and leaned forward over the bar again, fumbling a hand underneath until he found the switch that turned off the overhead lights, plunging him into momentary blindness.  


He knew this dining room by heart though, so he had no problems dodging tables and chairs while his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.  


His intentions were to make sure the front door was locked before he headed upstairs, but for some reason, he soon found himself standing out on the boardwalk, another cigarette in hand.  


The night air was warm, but a breeze kept it comfortable in that first hint of the coming fall. Soon they’d have to close in the open air deck for the winter…. He made a mental note to check the weather.  


Many of the attractions on the pier closed down every winter---the small amusement park at the end, and the boat tour company among them. But most of the restaurants remained open, especially the Baratie, which was popular enough to stay open year-round. In fact, there was demand for their food, despite the high prices. It was almost impossible to get a reservation last minute, though Sanji often found himself bending the rules a little for his close friends when they wanted.  


But his peace was effectively shattered not long after he’d set foot outside.  


A clattering of crates from around the side of the building had him glancing that way in mild surprise, one brow slowly hiking up. It could’ve been a cat, or a bunch of seagulls scavenging for scraps, but the cook knew for a fact they kept their waste to a bare minimum, and what they did have to throw out was carefully sealed until garbage collection day. He saw to it himself.  


Besides, this was no animal, because soon after, there was another clatter and the sound of a grunt, definitely from a human.  


Okay, now _this_ was interesting.  


The hotels were further down the beach, and on a weeknight in late summer, most of the crowds should’ve cleared out by now, especially on their end of the boardwalk. So a person would have very few reasons to be skulking around here. Unless they were looking to rob the place. Or getting kidnapped or killed or something. But he couldn’t hear any sounds hinting to that.  


In fact, he only heard one voice, so he really didn’t have any problems striding out through the front seating area and making his way to the small alley that wrapped around to the back of the restaurant.  


He didn’t have a weapon of sorts, but he at least had his cell phone, and his keys. And maybe he hadn’t been some kickboxing prodigy like his father wanted, but he could manage without getting killed. He had to, growing up with brothers who favored violence over words.  


His own footsteps thudded dully but confidently on the weathered wood of the dock, ready to face whatever was messing around in the darkness. But they had to falter slightly when it became clear just what he was up against.  


The clattering was the fault of a young girl, who Sanji was rather shocked to find angrily punching fists through the boards of the empty delivery crates stacked against the wall, with enough force to crack and shatter a few of them, each blow punctuated by a frustrated growl.  


“What the fuck….?” he muttered under his breath, not even doing anything right away save for watching the strange scene before the girl noticed him.  


She huffed with exertion, her short, dark bob of hair falling into her face. She pushed it out of her eyes with irritation before shifting and hovering over another crate, letting her fist crack down with rather perfect form to snap that board in half too.  


What was that? Karate? Tae kwon do? He wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure “I hate him!” wasn’t what they yelled in those sports…  


Well, this was a nostalgic scene, wasn’t it...  


“Hate who?” he asked, shoving his free hand in his pocket casually and striding a bit closer, enough to set off the motion-activated light over the back kitchen door when he walked past. Clearly she’d been here a while, if it had turned back off in the first place.  


The girl jumped visibly, still panting from her little tantrum, eyes widening in surprise. She didn’t answer Sanji’s question, just looked behind her quickly, a bit of ill-concealed panic coming over her features when she realized she was well and truly trapped in a dead end, ocean lapping behind her and a strange man blocking the way out of the alley.  


He saw her eyes flick behind him, and he anticipated her movement just in time to side step in front of her when she bolted in a last ditch effort to sprint past him.  


She let out a noise of frustration, then scrambled in the other direction, but he blocked her again. It wasn’t hard in such a narrow space.  


Eventually, she stopped, holding up hands in surrender and shuffling backwards a few steps.  


“Fine. Go ahead. Call the cops. Or rape me---kill me, whatever,” she spit out, tough words, but a bluff no doubt because he heard the slight tremble to her voice, saw the fear in her eyes.  


Regardless, it rather shocked him to hear. But then again, perhaps it shouldn’t have, coming from a cheeky kid caught trespassing and punching holes in shit.  


The cook actually chuckled a little, amused to say the least, and he shrugged.  


“I’m not gonna touch you, kid,” he assured. “But I will call the cops if you keep breakin’ shit.”  


The girl’s eyes narrowed, regarding him carefully as if to judge whether he was telling the truth.  


“You hungry?” he asked, not waiting for a reply and doing nothing further to pry.  


This seemed to catch her off-guard, as she again couldn’t reply right away, almost as if the conversation she’d carefully planned in her head was going nothing like she’d expected.  


“It’s a simple question,” Sanji prompted. “If you’re not, I suggest you run home unless you want me to call the cops. Or at least go vandalize someone else’s business. I can tell you a few that deserve it.”  


He took the pause to smirk and reward himself with a long drag of his cigarette.  


Her eyes trailed up and down his form suspiciously, though the skittishness was slowly disappearing from her gaze as her mind calculated just how she could dispatch him if necessary.  


“And if I _am_ hungry? You gonna give me money or something?” she wondered, contemplating where she could hit him that would likely fog his memory of this encounter entirely. She only had her fists at the moment, but give her a broom or three and she could improvise.  


“Nah, I’ll make you something myself. Whatever you want. I work here.”  


“Here? At the _Baratie?”_  


“Yeah.”  


“You make the food people eat here?”  


“Didn’t I just say that?”  


The girl had to try hard to hide the tiny flicker of excitement that inadvertently lit up her eyes. Damn….a free meal from a fancy-ass place like this? That everyone knew about but no one could afford, let alone get into even if they wanted to? Something told her she couldn’t pass this chance up, provided this guy was really to be trusted.  


But he seriously seemed harmless enough. What kind of damage could a skinny guy like him possibly do…?  


“Can I have some wine?” she tried, for which he fixed her with a deadpan glare.  


“Do I look like an idiot?”  


She shrugged, and mumbled, “Worth a shot.”  


This, at least, pointed to the man’s trustworthiness. If he wanted to take advantage of her somehow, he’d probably want her incapacitated.  


“Alright, fine,” she said, crossing arms over her chest and quirking a brow at him rather haughtily. “I want a bowl of ramen. Shoyu style.”  


“Okay. Nori and eggs? No allergies or anything?”  


Shit. No hesitation with those questions. He really knew what he was doing.  


“Yeah, everything. And no, no allergies.”  


“Done. Come on inside and I’ll get started.”  


Sanji stuck his cigarette between teeth, then turned on his heel to head back towards the kitchen door.  


But when he didn’t hear footsteps following him, he glanced back.  


“Or don’t. I’ll just bring it out here….”  


This earned him a roll of eyes from the girl, who eventually took a few wary steps after him.  


She thought about, as the man fumbled keys from his pocket and unlocked that side door, how quickly she could get to the shipyard from here should anything go wrong. It was late, but unlike some people, she could find her way, even at night. And she was sure at least one person would be working late at Galley-La.  


Sanji opened the door and swung it out to cross the threshold before her. He flipped on the lights as soon as he entered, revealing the large state-of-the-art kitchen beyond.  


It was his boss’ pride and joy, and Sanji’s favorite place to be in the whole world. Entering and actually _using_ it at this hour would surely earn him a berating come morning, should Zeff even find out, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t scared of the man, and this wasn’t the first time this kitchen had seen a late-night guest, despite many years passing in between.  


He heard the girl enter behind him, and he even left the door propped as a courtesy, almost to prove he had no tricks up his sleeve.  


“Have a seat,” he said, jerking his chin towards the dessert line near the door to the chute. “It won’t take long.”  


He still had a smirk on his face when he heard a stool slowly pull back, the one closest to the open door. Well, he didn’t really blame her for sitting there….  


And it didn’t take long, twenty minutes tops passing in silence, the cook stealing a few glances over at the girl now and again as he worked.  


By the time he nearly finished, she was slumped over the table more casually, stifling a yawn as she flicked through her phone absently.  


“Don’t fall asleep,” he called across the room as he ladled noodles and soup into a bowl, arranged the meat and toppings just so. “I expect you to eat all this. You good with chopsticks?”  


She looked up to see him shutting off the stove, bringing some of his tools to the sink to let them soak in water until he had the chance to wash them properly.  


“Yeah,” she replied, shoving her phone into the front pocket of her hoodie and burying both hands there.  


“Okay,” he noted. “Well, it’s ready. Wash your hands over here, then follow me.”  


This had her pulling a hand from her pocket, just to study it. Her knuckles looked a little bruised from all the punching, but there was no blood drawn. Soap and water wouldn’t sting at least.  


So she did as told, shuffling over to one of the sinks along the wall, no longer put off when he moved to shut the outside door finally.  


Once she was finished, Sanji took a spare tray, loaded the meal onto it, and jerked his head in indication for her to follow him out to the chute.  


He led her through, flipping lights on where necessary, only pausing to grab a pair of chopsticks from the utensil station. And then he found himself in the empty dining room once again.  


“Here,” he said, settling her down at one of the smaller tables and placing the steaming bowl before her. “Drink?”  


The girl was looking a little overwhelmed as she slowly sat, taking in the rather impressive room. It was circular, revolving around a large spiraling staircase that led to the banquet hall upstairs, the staircase itself wrapping a massive floor-to-ceiling fish tank that glowed a tranquil blue in the dim light.  


“Just water,” she mumbled, rapt gaze not leaving the school of colorful tropical fish that darted about in the tank. It looked like something straight out of an aquarium.  


“Cool, right?” Sanji caught that stare and shot her a smirk before heading over to the bar to get her a glass of water.  


By the time he brought it back, the girl had begun digging into the bowl of noodles, and he couldn’t stop the smug little look that came over his face upon seeing her expression.  


“Holy shit. This is _awesome_ ,” she complimented, mouth full of noodles, diving right back in a second later.  


If her cursing surprised him, he didn’t let on, merely replied, “Thanks,” and pulled back the chair across from her to take a seat. “Mind if I ask how the hell you know so much about ramen?”  


“What do you think, genius? Did you _look_ at me? I’m Japanese,” she snarked back, though the remark didn’t annoy him as much as it should thanks to the girl’s small tilt of lips. He had to admit that he liked the kid’s attitude, brash as it was.  


He supposed she had a point anyhow, now that he could study her more clearly, see those dark eyes, that blue-black hair that seemed to shimmer an almost minty color in some places, though that could have been merely the reflection from the aquarium.  


“Got a name?” he asked eventually, leaning an elbow on the table and sliding fingers over his own lips to hide his smirk. He seemed to have forgotten how tired he was in favor of appreciating how damn interesting this night turned out to be.  


She looked up at him for a second, almost comically, noodles hanging from her mouth until she slurped the rest of them up.  


“Tana,” she said, without making eye contact and with no mention of a last name.  


The cook just chuckled, glad to at least have something to call her.  


“Okay, Tana. Well, I’m Sanji.”  


At that, she shot the fair-skinned blond an extremely skeptical look.  


“Seriously?” she deadpanned. “You expect me to believe you’re Japanese too?”  


“French actually,” he replied easily.  


She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but seemed to think otherwise, eventually shaking her head and going back to her food, not without a quietly muttered, _“Weird…”_  


He decided to try his luck asking some more questions while he had her talking.  


“So are you lost or did you come out here on purpose?” he asked, quirking a brow when she lifted a scowl to him.  


“I know my way around perfectly well, _thanks,”_ she shot back with an unexpected level of sass, and she fell into a sulky silence after that, so he pressed.  


“You live around here?”  


“No,” she pouted in return.  


“In the city at least?”  


To this, she nodded.  


He nodded too, beginning to put together some of the pieces she’d dropped.  


“So you’re not homeless, and you’re not lost,” he mused, lifting a finger from his lips to tap the bridge of his nose absently. “Did you run?”  


This seemed to strike a nerve, enough to have her squirming uncomfortably in her seat and staring hard at the aquarium before glancing back over at him warily.  


“Maybe…...You gonna make me go back….?”  


“Depends why you ran,” he admitted. “You got people who’ll be worried about you?”  


She shrugged, sinking into her seat. She was starting to look more and more like the child she was, despite her tough talk.  


“Doubt it,” she mumbled eventually, and the dejected tone to her voice made the cook sigh.  


“Alright….” he murmured, a little softer than before, because he felt for her. He knew what it was like, thinking no one cared, that no one would miss him if he just up and disappeared.  


It fucking sucked.  


“Look, it’s late,” he said after a minute, sitting back in his chair. “Finish that, and I’ll let you crash here tonight.” Then, when she gave him a weird look, he clarified, “My apartment’s above the restaurant. M’not gonna let you wander the streets all night…..Shouldn’t you have school tomorrow?”  


This at least started a mischievous little smile tugging at her lips.  


“Yeah,” she replied, looking far too gleeful about potentially skipping.  


Sanji sighed, rolled his eyes, and flicked a hand at her bowl of half-eaten ramen.  


“Eat,” he insisted.  


So she did, and when she finished, he instructed her to sit tight while he cleaned the dishes and finished closing up, a task he’d intended on finishing roughly an hour ago now.  


He supposed he’d just have to deal with an exhausted day of work tomorrow. All for being a good samaritan.  


When Sanji disappeared back into the kitchen with her dishes, Tana leaned forward, settling arms on the table and resting her chin atop them. She left it there for a second before shifting her head down, pressing her forehead there instead.  


Of course, this afforded her a view of the pocket of her hoodie, which was currently glowing for the millionth time.  


A frustrated growl and she ripped the phone from her pocket, dismissing the incoming call and shutting it down entirely. Let him try and call all damn night. She wasn’t picking up.  


The phone she shoved back in her pocket, and she flopped her head down onto the table again, leaving hands stuffed in her pocket too.  


And this was how Sanji found her some ten minutes later when he emerged from the kitchen, having cleared up and locked the door.  


He didn’t disturb her just yet, just watched her curiously from the entrance to the dining room for a moment before moving to finally lock the front door as well.  


By the time he made his way to her side, he actually wondered if she hadn’t fallen asleep like that, but the irritable grunt she gave when he voiced a soft, “Oi,” was enough to prove otherwise.  


He touched a hand down onto her back, urging her to get up.  


“Let’s go, kid. If I let you sleep down here, my boss’ll kill me.”  


She obliged, slowly pushing up with a sigh, and when she did, Sanji was nearly shocked speechless upon noticing a slight sheen to her eyes, further emphasized when the girl lifted a hand to wipe at them, turning her head away.  


Again, he felt a tiny pang in his chest, of empathy and the desire to comfort.  


He knew nothing of her situation, and he’d never thought of himself as someone with particularly strong parental instincts---those were more fleeting dreams than anything. But he couldn’t deny that urge, and it was enough to have him leaving his hand where it was, rubbing her back and pushing her gently towards a discreet door down the short hallway of the chute.  


He flipped off the dining room lights, and ushered Tana up the narrow, softly lit staircase behind that door. Another door at the top opened onto another hallway, with wooden floors that resembled a ship, nautical paintings and trappings along the wall adding to that effect. Not to mention the circular window at the opposite end that looked like a porthole letting in the moonlight.  


The blond walked her past Zeff’s apartment door, past the offices on the other side until he came to his own, the last on the left.  


It was unlocked. There was no point in locking it really, so he let her right in, wondering if Tana would be freaked out by this invitation at all.  


But she seemed far too exhausted for even skittishness now. In fact, she even yawned when she stepped into the little entrance hallway.  


Sanji’s apartment was modest, hardly huge, even if Zeff had allowed him to rent the biggest one, claiming he himself preferred closer quarters as they reminded him of his sailing days.  


Wood floors stained white, it was open, and surprisingly spacious despite its small square footage.  


He didn’t have much, but what he did have was comfortable and to his taste, simple and modern. Maybe he relied a little too heavily on Ikea sometimes, but so long as he wasn’t rich, then he couldn’t much care about that.  


The apartment had a full kitchen at least, with a small counter that acted as a barrier between that and his lounge area, couch, chairs, and TV in front of a large set of windows that, during the day, offered a rather stunning, uninterrupted view of the ocean, almost as if he really was sailing.  


The kitchen he only used to its fullest potential on days off or when he had friends over. He kept it fully cleaned and fully stocked though. After all, it was his studio of sorts, the place where he could really experiment.  


It just felt rather empty these days….  


Even a year later, the whole apartment did.  


“The couch is yours,” Sanji murmured, shutting the door behind Tana and flipping on a light over the counter. “I’ll go grab an extra pillow and blanket. This door’s a bathroom.”  


He gestured to a door on the right, then slipped through the one beside it, closest to the windows---his bedroom.  


Tana afforded the moment to glance around, at how clean everything looked. Almost untouched. It was a comfortable space, but it didn’t seem lived in. Not like her own apartment.  


She sighed and yawned again, bypassing the bathroom and instead sinking down onto the light blue couch.  


It was soft...but it was a couch, and she foolishly found herself pining for her own bed, even after all the effort she’d made not to go back.  


Maybe she shouldn’t have said those things…..maybe she should’ve answered those calls.  


“You okay?”  


Sanji’s voice to her right, and she looked up to see him standing in the doorway to the other room, a folded white fleece blanket in hands, and a fluffy pillow stacked on top.  


She wasn’t sure what prompted him to ask, so she merely nodded tiredly.  


The cook watched her for a moment, then sighed and walked over to hand her the pillow.  


“Here you go,” he said, placing the blanket on the couch beside her.  


She still looked rather forlorn, however, a far cry from her sassiness earlier. Sanji supposed it might have been due to exhaustion. It was past midnight, after all. And maybe a bit of remorse or regret…? Perhaps he was reading too far into that look on her face though.  


“Get some sleep,” he urged gently, plopping a hand down onto her shoulder and giving a squeeze. “We’ll get this shit sorted out in the morning. I’ll make you breakfast and stuff.”  


The girl nodded again, then kicked off her sneakers automatically and curled legs up onto the couch, placing the pillow on one end. She moved to take the blanket, but he beat her to it, unfolding it and helping to get it settled over her lap.  


Her eyes lingered on him for a moment. And her lips turned up a tiny bit a second later.  


“Thank you…” she mumbled, and he smirked.  


“Don’t mention it,” he replied, patted her shoulder again, then backed off, watching as she pulled the blanket up higher and turned away from him onto her side.  


He crossed the room, flipping off the kitchen light before heading back to his own door.  


Just prior to closing it, he shot one last glance at Tana’s huddled form on the couch, the light from his room shining a soft orange rectangle over her.  


He noticed, for the first time, the back of her sweatshirt, a pair of swords crossed on the back and a name printed at the top in a varsity font.  


He couldn’t read all of it, half of it obscured beneath the blankets, but he quirked a brow, wondering if that was her last name.  


He shook his head, too tired to inquire right now, and shut the door.  


He’d figure this shit out in the morning, as he’d said.  


He just hoped she’d still be there when he woke up…  


* * *

She was. In fact, Tana was still fast asleep by the time he quietly stepped out of his room, fully showered and dressed in his work pants and a blue button-down and tie, at the crack of dawn the next morning.  


She’d shifted in her sleep, now sprawled on her back, one leg kicked out of the blankets and an arm hanging limply over the edge of the couch, head completely off the pillow.  


Sanji shook his head, smiling a little. How the hell could anyone sleep comfortably that way?  


He tried not to make a sound as he crossed the room and slid open a door on the other end. The cook headed out onto his small balcony so he could smoke a cigarette without disturbing his young guest.  


There was the sunrise peeking up over the horizon, bathing the ocean in a brilliant clear orange that Sanji hadn’t seen in a few days. This was one of the first times this week that the sky hadn’t been cloudy, and while he could appreciate it, along with the soothing nicotine he inhaled slowly, he had to wonder just what the hell this day had in store for him.  


If the kid didn’t contact her parents, he’d have to do _something_ before the police came after _him_. He was no fucking kidnapper, thank you, and the _last_ thing he wanted was to deal with the authorities again.  


He also didn’t want to ruin things for the girl should she really have come from a difficult situation…..  


He needed a plan of action, and while this might have seemed like a situation no one could relate to, well….he was in luck, wasn’t he.  


A few more minutes he spent leaning against his railing, watching the sun rise and the ocean lap beneath him, seagulls already beginning to circle along the pier in anticipation of the day’s scavenges.  


Then he finished his cigarette and flicked it off his balcony to the waves below, a bad habit he’d picked up admittedly, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about it just then.  


He needed advice.  


But instead of pulling his phone out of his pocket, he went back inside and headed straight through his little living room and kitchen, leaving the apartment and the slumbering girl behind. He made his way down the hall where, unsurprisingly, there was already a light on in the adjacent office, the sound of shuffling paperwork coming from the cracked doorway.  


The cook strode right up, despite the still early hour, gave a soft knock, then swung the door open and entered without further introduction.  


“What do you want, brat? This is my only hour of peace,” Zeff grumbled from his desk, not looking up from the stack of paperwork he was poring over.  


“Shut up,” Sanji scoffed, knowing the old man would never stop with the damn nicknames despite him being more than fully grown. “I’ve got a kid in my apartment, and I don’t know what to do.”  


This at least forced Zeff to look up, that impressive blond mustache of his nearly covering his frown entirely.  


“A kid,” he repeated, staring at Sanji like he’d lost his mind. “A human kid?”  


_“Yes,_ a human kid,” Sanji huffed impatiently. “She showed up last night. She was punching shit in the alleyway. Surprised it didn’t wake you up.”  


At this, Zeff’s eyes narrowed.  


“Any damage?”  


“To the girl? No. I’m sure that’s what you’re concerned about, right?” Sanji asked sarcastically. But when Zeff just shot him an unamused look of his own, he rolled his eyes. “Just a few old empty crates. Nothing valuable.”  


Zeff seemed satisfied with this answer, giving a nod and going back to his paperwork.  


“Did you call the cops?”  


“No,” Sanji admitted. “She’s little, old man, like twelve, tops. And she did not seem to wanna go back home. Who knows what the hell she’s running from.”  


Zeff tutted scoldingly and shook his head.  


“You’re too sympathetic, boy. If you won’t call the police, then steal her phone and call her parents.”  


“What?! Like hell! And make her lose all trust in me---?”  


“That’s what I did for you---”  


_“WHAT?!”_ Sanji screeched. “That’s how my dad found out I was here?!”  


“Yup,” Zeff answered, still not looking up from his work. “Surprise. Now go deal with the kid and start getting set up downstairs.”  


The cook glowered at the other man indignantly. He might have only been sixteen at the time, but he still remembered clearly how he’d felt when his father showed up----being forced to go home with him despite how badly he _didn’t want to._ He _wasn’t_ going to pull that with Tana.  


“Get Patty to cover for me,” he growled irritably. “I wanna sort this shit out _my_ way.”  


Zeff scribbled his signature on a page, shuffled a few more.  


“Then why even ask my advice?”  


_“Because,_ I----urgh!”  


Maybe he _wanted_ it, but if Zeff was going to make things difficult for him, then fucking forget it.  


The blond huffed rather childishly, then turned on his heel and stormed from the office, muttering to himself about stupid shitty geezers screwing him over.  


This only left Zeff smirking to himself in Sanji’s wake.  


* * *

_Dinner was an awkward affair. It always was these days for Tana and her dad. Neither of them could cook, at least not anything substantial, so the fridge’s contents consisted of whatever take-out leftovers they had from the night before, and not much else….maybe a bottle of ketchup or a random jar of pickles, mostly because they were staples Tana’s dad thought he should buy.  
_

_Tana remembered a time not so long ago when it had been stocked with fresh vegetables, lunch meats and the like….things a normal family would have. But now that wasn’t so. It would never be so again._  


_So it was Chinese tonight, the third time this week, and she really didn’t see why her friends were always jealous. Oliver and Thomas would often express their envy, but she wasn’t sure why when their dad would slip cola into their lunch boxes as a treat. She didn’t know how he got it past their mom, considering she seemed to have eyes everywhere…._  


_They were the lucky ones, as far as she was concerned._  


_They were also the only ones she had left, and neither of them were even in her grade, with Oliver a year above her and Thomas a year below. No one else had wanted to be her friend for over a year now, and that was entirely her dad’s fault. Everything was her dad’s fault, and once she’d come to that conclusion, her behavior had changed._  


_They’d stopped talking to each other beyond a few obligatory words here and there. Her dad was pretty reserved to begin with, but these days he was very nearly silent. Ever since he’d started working at Rain Dinners, he would spend most of his time at home locked in his room, and she knew he was drinking. The amount of crushed-up beer cans and bottles she found in the trash was enough to prove that._  


_She’d pull them out, separate them for recycling like her mom had started doing. She’d do it all herself, but her father always said nothing. It was like he didn’t even want to look at her anymore._  


_Kendo was her only escape these days, since she’d moved back in with him._  


_She could go to the dojo, beat the shit out of things, train herself in a discipline she’d been learning practically her entire twelve years of life. She couldn’t remember not having it in her life. And it reminded her of happier times. When their family was together and happy._  


_And now she was the only one who found joy in it. Even her grandfather’s passion had dwindled, left him watching her practice with a hollow, melancholy gaze behind his glasses, his only approval as her coach that of a subtle nod and a murmured, “Again.”_  


_The joy was just...gone._  


_That much was obvious when she decided to bring it up after a few minutes of stabbing her chopsticks absently into her rice._  


_She looked up across the small table at her dad, who was actually eating his food, but paying her no mind. It always looked like his thoughts were elsewhere._  


_“My competition’s this weekend,” she muttered quietly, breaking the deafening silence for the first time since they’d sat down to eat. “Are you gonna drop me at Grandpa’s or should I call him to pick me up?”_  


_Her dad actually paused, the hand clamped absently on his can of beer clenching slightly along with his jaw. There was a long, tense moment before he spoke._  


_“I already told him you don’t have my permission to go,” he finally muttered, gaze fixed on his meal, which he resumed eating a second later, as if his words were final._  


_Tana couldn’t help the frustrated exhale that left her._  


_“Why not?” she protested, glaring across the table at him._  


_“Look,” he replied icily. “You live with me again, and I say no competing, got it? You’re lucky I even let you practice with him still….”_  


_“Yeah, once a week! That’s hardly any time! And that doesn’t answer why!” Tana exclaimed again._  


_She hadn’t intended to let her temper get the best of her, but it was hard not to when talking with her dad. Eyes full of confusion and frustration flicked over her dad’s features, the trepidation of a child hiding beneath the tough exterior._  


_“Grandpa said he thinks I’m ready! He said I might even be better than Mom was at my ag---”_  


_Her dad slammed his fist down on the table, this time meeting her glare with a menacing one of his own._  


_“I don’t fucking care what he says, okay?! It’s too damn dangerous! You keep this shit up and I’m not letting you go back there period!”_  


_“Dad! You can’t just **do** that!”_  


_“I sure as fuck can! How the hell am I supposed to know if you’re strong enough!” he asserted, as if that would win him the argument._  


_But Tana huffed in indignation, glowering at her dad for the very reason behind all this trouble._  


_“Oh, I dunno, maybe **watch** me sometime?” she growled fearlessly with the sarcasm of her mother._  


_This seemed to strike a nerve with the man, whose jaw snapped shut, baleful gaze flickering to reveal a turmoil underneath that Tana had seen before, but they never talked about. She hadn’t even felt she could, at least not until this moment, still riding the adrenaline rush of the confrontation._  


_Breaths hissed out between clenched teeth, watching her dad waver almost pathetically._  


_How could such a big, strong guy be like this? This was **not** the father she remembered---this was **not** the man she once looked up to. Instead, all she saw was weakness. Never did she think a year could really change **that** much about a person, even if it had felt like an eternity._  


_“You’re just afraid!” she shouted, almost relishing in the flinch that ran through her dad, the way he turned his head away almost in shame. “You’re always afraid now! Afraid to do anything! I thought you were strong, but you’re not!”_  


_Months of pent-up anger trembled through her small body as she watched him, almost **wanting** him to fight back more, to do **something** other than run from all this. She’d never seen her dad cry, wasn’t sure he had the ability, but she’d almost prefer that over the unbearable silence that met her outburst._  


_He didn’t concede, didn’t do anything, save for stare hard at the TV across the apartment, showing commercials in the background._  


_Tana could’ve said more, but the silence went on a little too long, and despite her words to her dad, she began to feel a tiny bit of fear creep up within her. She wasn’t sure what consequences her tirade would have now with this new dad, and part of her wasn’t sure she trusted him anymore, especially when she saw his fist trembling ever so slightly._  


_But the silence amounted to nothing._  


_In fact, all her dad did was push to his feet eventually, still looking pointedly away from her. He left his unfinished meal right there on the table and strode away to his room without a lingering glance._  


_The door slammed shut behind him, and Tana was left feeling horribly alone._  


* * *

When Tana opened her eyes, it took her a minute to gather her surroundings. She wasn’t in her room….she was on a couch in an unfamiliar apartment. She was still in her jeans, which was entirely weird to say the least, but it was this that had her recalling the events of the previous night.  


For all the speed with which she’d left home, with nothing but her phone in her pocket, she sure regretted it now. She was comfortable, and warm, but this felt far too unsettling, waking up in a stranger’s apartment, even if the man had shown her such kindness last night.  


She stared straight ahead, not moving just yet, focusing on the window, which she hadn’t noticed overlooked the ocean.  


It should have been nice. In fact, it reminded her of the beach house her parents had rented from Oliver and Thomas’ dad a few summers ago.  


They’d been the first to stay there after his company had built it, and she remembered the view being similar to this. Other parts of it were very different. After all, the house’s design had much of Galley-La’s unique touch, a bright red exterior, a balcony shaped like the bow of a ship jutting out over the ocean, even a tower like a lighthouse, with a room that afforded a three-hundred and sixty degree view of the beach. _Thousand Sunny,_ was the name, if she recalled.  


Her dad had said it was the perfect place to train. They’d even had to pay a damage fee when her mom kicked her dad’s ass hard enough to crack the wood of the wall. That was the last awkward time she’d walked in on her parents kissing.  


It hadn’t been long ago, but already things had changed completely.  


Finally, she sat up, rubbing sleepily at her eyes and swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat for some annoying reason.  


There was a clock on the opposite wall, one of those weird modern ones with no numbers, and it took her an extra second to decipher the time, but it looked to be around seven now.  


This was the time she’d normally be sluggishly getting ready for school, but….well…..it would seem she was skipping today after all.  


Maybe last night that idea seemed exciting and rebellious. Now it just made her feel anxious for the trouble she’d be in…  


It was quiet. She didn’t hear anyone moving around, and she came upon the realization that she was actually alone, unless Sanji was still asleep. But the door to his room was ajar, so he must have gotten up.  


Worry shot through her anew. The man had said he’d make her breakfast, that they’d sort things out in the morning, but had she been wrong to trust him? Was she on her own?  


Something about that had her a little fearful. What if he’d gone to the police while she was asleep? What if her dad was going to come pick her up, and what if he was even angrier than last night?  


Worried, she decided to risk checking her phone, the screen promptly exploding with unread texts and missed calls once she powered it on.  


She dismissed them all, but mostly out of panic. Because they hadn’t all been from one person. The one she didn’t want to talk to. Her grandpa had called too, even Oliver and Thomas’ parents…  


The only notification she felt comfortable opening just then was from Oliver, a text that simply read, _‘u dead?’_ with a gravestone emoji from a mere fifteen minutes ago.  


_‘No,’_ she sent back, and she noticed that the text was read almost immediately after. A mere second later, her friend began typing.  


_‘Ok nice,’_ he replied, then typed a second message. _‘Comin to school?’_  


_‘Idk yet,’_ she said, which was the truth. She wasn’t sure she wanted to now…  


_‘K,’_ came his response, and she found herself grateful for her older friend’s nonchalance. Even if he was worried about things, he didn’t tend to show it, unlike his younger brother, who tended to quietly over-prepare for every exam ever, despite always acing them.  


_‘Wanna facetime quick? ill go somewhere secret,’_ Oliver wrote a second later, followed by a ninja emoji.  


It was enough to make Tana smile, so she typed back, _‘ok’_ and tapped the button to make a video call.  


It rang for a bit, most likely while her friend found a private place, and indeed, when he picked up, it sure looked like the boy was huddled in his closet, dimly lit with clothes sloppily hanging above him.  


Oliver grinned when the call connected, his shaggy, bright blue mop of hair standing out amidst his surroundings.  


“Where are you?” he laughed, noting the strange background behind his friend, who looked to be totally fine. Certainly not dead or anything like that. His question came more from amusement than concern, however, and it brought a smirk to her face.  


“Some guy’s apartment,” she replied, almost proudly, and she did feel pretty badass saying that out loud. “At the Baratie on the pier. I ran there last night---it took like an hour!---and I was punching shit and this guy who works there found me and invited me in. He made me free food and let me sleep on his couch~”  


“Really?!” he exclaimed, slapping a hand over his mouth when he realized he might have been a bit too loud. _“Really?”_ he repeated in a quieter tone. _“That’s so super awesome! He wasn’t like---gonna kidnap you or anything?”_  


“Nah,” Tana assured. “I could’ve kicked his ass if he tried~” She might have been talking herself up just a little, considering the doubts she’d indeed felt last night…  


“Bet you could’ve,” Oliver replied with a resolute nod, dark blue eyes shining with excitement, as if he was totally living vicariously through her wild night.  


Tana’s smirk fell a bit though, and she wondered, “What’s---I mean, is my dad mad…..?”  


Oliver’s lips twisted into a frown and he shrugged.  


“Mmm, I dunno,” he said. “I think he just called my mom and then she asked if me or Thomas had seen you. Did you guys fight or something?”  


“Yeah…” Tana admitted. “He wasn’t gonna let me go to the tournament this weekend!”  


“What?! Why?!”  


“You know why….”  


“Ugh,” Oliver huffed, quieting a bit and biting his lip before looking apologetic. “Sorry, Tana. That’s such a dick move…”  


She sighed and shook her head.  


“It’s whatever. I guess I’ll just have to find another way to get there,” she mumbled.  


It was no use asking Oliver’s parents to take her. They were great, but they also wouldn’t help her if her dad said no.  


“You could hijack a car! I showed you how to pick a lock, remember?”  


Tana giggled, half disappearing from view on the screen as she laughed.  


“A Hummer,” she fantasized. “And I’ll drive it over every car like a monster truck!”  


“Yeah!” Oliver exclaimed. “And then you can---!”  


But just then, a distant knock had the boy glancing nervously to his right, especially when the smooth voice of his mother sounded in the background, calling his name.  


_“Dammit,”_ the boy whispered, then shouted, “Just a sec, Mom!” before turning back to his phone. _“I gotta go if I wanna live. I’ll text you later.”_  


_“Okay,”_ Tana whispered back, admittedly a little disappointed their call had to be cut short. It had been a good distraction. _“Later…”_  


_“Bye,”_ Oliver replied, then ended the call, leaving her friend’s Gundam icon to take up the screen in place of his face.  


She sighed, realizing she’d forgotten to ask him not to tell his parents or anyone where she was….but it was too late for that now. She trusted he wouldn’t anyway.  


Instead, she closed the app and pocketed her phone again, plunged right back into the anxious silence of earlier, left to wonder where Sanji had gone and whether she should make a break for it before he got back.  


She was so deep in this worry that she actually startled when, suddenly, the front door swung open, and the blond cook himself stepped in, muttering to himself irritably.  


As soon as he saw she was awake though, he stopped, noting the owlish, almost alarmed way she looked at him from behind the couch back, hair still mussed up from sleep.  


He ultimately relaxed, shutting the door behind him.  


“You’re up,” he said, a smirk coming to his face as he crossed the room and leaned over the counter separating the kitchen from the living room area.  


Tana nodded a little awkwardly.  


“You hungry?” he asked her for the second time since they’d met, voice gentle and patient.  


“Okay,” she replied quietly, enough to have him quirk a brow.  


Something was different about her this morning, Sanji thought, even though he’d only seen her for but a minute. He’d noticed it last night too, how her sass and confidence had slowly begun to dwindle. He’d put it down to her being tired, but perhaps there was more to it. It wouldn’t exactly surprise him.  


“Alright then. What are you in the mood for?”  


She didn’t know. When was the last time she’d actually had a proper home-cooked breakfast? Probably at her Grandpa’s. With her dad, it was just cereal or leftovers. Or nothing.  


“I dunno. Pancakes or something?”  


“Can do,” Sanji replied with a nod, pushing off the counter to head over to the fridge. “Do you like chocolate chips? I can make chocolate chip ones.”  


She shook her head.  


“Too sweet.”  


“What about fruit?” he asked instead, perusing the boxes of blueberries and strawberries he’d bought the other day. He pulled them out to show her.  


“That’s fine,” she replied.  


“Okay,” he said, and began his preparations, rummaging through his highly organized kitchen for various tools and pans, ingredients from his cabinets. “TV remote should be on the coffee table. You can watch TV if you want.”  


She nodded, and soon Sanji’s apartment was filled with sounds often unheard these days. Homey sounds----the sizzling of bacon, a commercial jingle on TV, the swish of coffee brewing. It would have been odd, had it not been so comfortable.  


Usually the cook was up and out the door within a half hour of getting dressed. Maybe a cup of coffee, a cigarette or two before he headed downstairs to start his work for the day.  


This sort of lazy morning hadn’t been afforded to him in a while. In fact, the last time he’d flipped pancakes over the stove, there had been a pair of soft hands sliding over his waist from behind, lips kissing the back of his neck tenderly, a voice sweet as pudding in his ear….  


He shook his head, pushing that thought far from his mind. Of course, it was hard to, especially in the silence, so he decided to start talking, distract himself.  


“So what school do you go to? Are they gonna be pissed you’re not there?” he called over his shoulder.  


“East Blue Junior High,” she replied, head still turned towards the TV. “I never skip, so they can’t be too mad….”  


“You’re in junior high? A little shrimp like you? Would’ve pinned you for a first grader~” Sanji teased, trying to lighten the mood.  


“Hey! I’m in sixth grade!” she shot back, finally turning to glare over at him with a pout.  


He just chuckled and wiggled eyebrows at her cheekily before flipping another pancake.  


She still looked sulky, however, resting an arm on the back of the couch and settling her chin on top of it.  


“My turn,” she eventually said, deciding to wheedle the guy with her own questions if he seemed so keen on doing so for her. “Are you married?”  


Sanji felt himself twitch a bit at that question. It had an easy answer, but not such an easy story behind it.  


“No,” he replied simply, and a little curtly at that.  


“Do you have kids?” she pressed.  


_“No,”_ he replied again.  


“How old are you?”  


“Okay, kid, you don’t get to ask me that.” He wasn’t that old, but he certainly wasn’t twenty-one anymore…  


“Can I guess?” she tried, causing the cook to pause his work and set his spatula down hard on the counter with a clink of metal on the surface. He turned his head to narrow eyes at her.  


“What the hell is this, twenty questions? Is this how all kids talk to adults these days?” He couldn’t remember being this damn nosy when he was young. His mother had called him a perfect angel, thank you very much.  


But Tana was relentless, enjoying the rise she was getting out of the man, hiding a little impish grin against her arm.  


“Are you old? Like thirty?”  


“Thirty isn’t _old,_ kid,” he grumbled, rolling up sleeves and getting back to work. “Look, there’s nothing else interesting about me, I promise.”  


And as far as he was concerned, there wasn’t. Besides his cooking ability. And he hadn’t practiced savate for over a year now. He was probably rusty as fuck. Nothing impressive there.  


That brought to mind a question though, about why the hell the girl had been capable of splitting those boards so perfectly the night before. The only way someone her age could be that good was if they’d been practicing for several years. He knew for a fact kids didn’t usually start with contact practice until after they’d mastered all the forms in those sports.  


She seemed bored with his answer, judging by the fact that she’d once again set to pouting quietly, so he decided to ask, “Here’s what I wanna know? You a black belt or something? Where’d you learn to punch shit like that?”  


The girl dropped her hand and began to pick absently at the back of the couch, eventually making swirling patterns with her fingers.  


“Not a black belt. I do kendo and judo. We don’t really use those. I’m san-dan in kendo, and ni-dan in judo. That means----”  


“No shit! You’re _that_ good?” the cook nearly screeched, slapping a pancake down onto the serving plate extra hard in his surprise. “You’re in first grade!”  


_“Sixth!”_ she whined back, glowering over at him. “And of course I am. I’ve been doing it since I was like two! I better be by this point.”  


“That’s insane. Little kids waving around swords and shit,” Sanji replied, but his tone sounded more surprised than disturbed.  


Tana was at least glad it wasn’t like her dad’s frequent tone of complete scorn these days…  


“It’s not insane. My grandpa runs a dojo! And I’m not a little kid!” she insisted, to which he countered with a sarcastic, “Right.”  


Sanji shook his head in disbelief, scooped up the last steaming pancake from the griddle, flopped it onto the plate, then turned off the heat and whisked the plate over to the counter while it was still hot.  


Homemade syrup, a bowl of fresh fruit, butter, basically everything anyone could want to top their pancakes soon joined that plate, along with a pitcher of orange juice and his own cup of coffee.  


Last, he set out the bacon and silverware and pulled a stool up to the counter for Tana.  


“Alright, get over here,” he said, to which Tana sprung onto her feet quickly, having been watching him prepare like some kind of hungry cat the whole time. “Help yourself.”  


And watching her bounce excitedly onto the stool and eye the breakfast spread with wide eyes, very nearly drooling on his countertop, was certainly enough to convince him of her maturity….  


* * *

And so, the breakfast passed rather pleasantly, with Tana quite happily stuffing her face and Sanji casually deflecting any of her more prying questions. He was pleased to discover, however, that all he needed to do was get her talking about kendo, and she would gladly chatter on, detailing things that were beyond even his general knowledge. Nevertheless, it was all rather interesting, and the cook found himself actively listening the more this kid’s passion unfolded.  


He wanted to know more about her situation. Where had she run from? Was it safe? What the hell should he do next?  


But he didn’t quite have the heart to bring down the mood just yet.  


It was the sound of a phone vibrating that surprised them both, and it became quickly apparent that the phone was Tana’s, the sound muffled in her pocket.  


Neither of them moved, Sanji slowly lifting his gaze to her and quirking a brow at her expectantly, wondering if she was going to answer.  


A look of alarm, and then indecision, had crossed the girl’s face. And the longer the moment lasted, the more it was clear that she wasn’t going to answer.  


And, sure enough, as the phone continued to vibrate softly, Tana huffed out a frustrated breath, and ripped the device from her pocket, thumb hovering over the ‘end call’ button.  


But Sanji interrupted, shooting out a hand to stop her from tapping the screen.  


“Wait. Mind if I pick up?” he asked, a bit of a mischievous look on his face. It was a little impulsive of him, and he hadn’t been intending on it a mere second ago, but if this was who he thought it was, it could make for one interesting phone call.  


She stared at him for a second, admittedly surprised he had asked, and her eyes flicked to the buzzing phone again, seemingly debating whether or not she should let him. She wasn’t exactly sure if she could get into any deeper trouble than she probably was in already, so she eventually nodded.  


“Go for it,” she mumbled, sliding the phone over the counter to him, then slumped down, clearly trying to disappear inside her oversized hoodie.  


“Don’t worry,” he replied with a reassuring wink. “I got this.”  


Sanji lifted the phone from the counter, noting with amusement that the caller ID read simply, ‘Asshole’ in large letters. He tapped the screen to receive the call, and brought it to his ear.  


“Hey, Asshole,” he answered smoothly, causing Tana’s eyes to widen and her face to go a little red.  


There was a strange sound on the other end, almost one of surprise, but it was quickly replaced by a threatening growl.  


And the voice that spoke afterwards was just as menacing, low and dangerous.  


_“Who the fuck is this,”_ less a question from the man, than a demand, which Sanji began to promptly answer.  


“My name’s Sanji Vinsmoke. I’m---”  


_“Where the **fuck** is my daughter?!”_  


Okay, this guy wasn’t even going to wait, was he. Asshole’s---or rather, Asshole _Dad’s_ \---voice was louder, much more urgent. Was he trying to intimidate or something? Sanji very nearly rolled his eyes. Like hell it was going to work on him.  


“Oi, calm down, I’m not some kidnapper. She showed up here last night. I let her stay with me. She’s sitting right here. I just fed her the best damn pancakes she’s ever had, with strawberries and shit. Think she’s doing just fine.”  


_“Put her on!”_  


Sanji scowled.  


“Ugh, stop yelling in my ear, dammit. It’s irritating as fuck. Hang on,” the blond grumbled, pulling the phone away from his ear to focus on Tana.  


“He wants to talk to you,” he murmured, but Tana immediately shook her head and asserted, “No,” so he brought the phone back to his ear.  


“She doesn’t wanna talk to you,” he relayed to the angry voice, preparing for the screech that was sure to follow.  


But to his surprise, he was met with the sound of a huff, then a long silence, long enough that he actually wondered if the guy was still there.  


“Hello?” he tried. _“Hello---”_  


_“Shut up!”_ the man’s voice came right back, though there was an almost tired edge to it this time. _“Look, just….where are you? You say you didn’t kidnap her, so tell me where you are so I can come get her!”_  


Sanji’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t want it to be that easy. He didn’t want to send this kid right back into a bad situation, especially when she was sat there looking miserable as fuck right across from him.  


That was why Sanji wasn’t so sure, eyes fixed on Tana when he replied, “Not so fast.”  


_“What the hell do you mean?! I’ll call the fucking cops---!”_  


“And if I do first?” Sanji cut in smoothly, and that earned him another silence which he took advantage of. “You’re lucky I haven’t already. How do I know you’re not abusing her or some shit? You sure as hell sound like enough of a dick to! She ran away for a reason, and she also doesn’t wanna go back for a reason. I’m not throwing her right back into the fire.”  


Tana had slid down in her seat, staring hard at the counter in a way Sanji knew was to combat tears. He recognized that look entirely.  


Still no reply from the other end, so he continued, lowering his voice so as not to trouble the girl further.  


“She’s sitting here looking upset as hell. How am I supposed to be okay with letting her go,” he added, starting to feel regretful himself about all this. Dammit, he felt _responsible_ for this kid all of a sudden, and it was a weird-ass feeling at that. She wasn’t even his kid…  


_"We had an argument last night,”_ came the man’s voice again, sounding even more weary. _“I said some things that she didn’t wanna hear. I went in my room to cool off, and when I came back out, she was gone.”_ A heavy sigh on the other end, and Sanji _almost_ began to feel sorry for the man when his voice quieted. _“I haven’t fucking slept. Please, just….can I come pick her up?”_  


He didn’t want to fall for a trap though, not when he _knew_ the kind of things his dad used to say to fool people into thinking their situation was normal…  


“Hold on,” he said again, and removed the phone to address Tana once more.  


“Is it okay for your dad to come get you?” he asked, drilling her seriously with his eyes. “If you don’t wanna go with him for any reason, then I won’t let him come. I will call the police, and we’ll let them deal with this. But I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”  


Tana raised her gaze to look at Sanji, saw just how serious he was. His tone reminded her, reminded her of how her dad’s used to be---fierce and protective, whenever she’d needed it. Now it was just despondent or angry. Nothing in between.  


She didn’t want that though. She didn’t want the police to come. She didn’t want them involved. It would be far too painful. She couldn’t deal with it.  


She also didn’t really want to leave Sanji’s place, because this man actually seemed concerned with her….  


Still, she found herself nodding, jaw clenching, and Sanji couldn’t help but think how resilient this kid really was.  


“He can come,” she replied.  


None of this sat right with Sanji, but Tana seemed certain.  


He asked one more time, wanting her to know it was okay to be honest with him, that she didn’t have to agree just to be brave.  


“Are you sure?”  


But she nodded again and said, “Yes.”  


He sighed.  


There was really nothing he could do, in that case. He had no charges with which to stop the guy from picking her up. He was her _father,_ and Sanji had no rights when it came to that shit.  


He lifted the phone again.  


“You there?” he asked, wondering if his and Tana’s little conversation had been overheard. Not that he cared if it had been.  


_“Yeah,”_ replied the man, almost on a tired sigh. Maybe he was relieved to have actually heard his daughter’s voice. Sanji couldn’t tell….  


“Alright, I’ll tell you where I live,” the blond allowed. “You know the Baratie restaurant? On the pier?”  


A grunt of acknowledgment from the other end.  


“I live above there. The restaurant’s opening soon, so come around to the back. There’s a set of stairs by the dock. Not by the fence---that’s my boss’ apartment. The first set of stairs.”  


He heard what sounded like rustling paper and then a pencil scratching on the other end, followed by the man’s gravelly tones.  


_“Okay.”_  


“How long’s it gonna take you?” Sanji asked, and the man replied, _“I dunno. Probably like a half hour.”_  


“Double whatever he says,” Tana muttered after Sanji’s question. “He’s gonna get lost.”  


“An hour then,” Sanji calculated in response to that, only to receive a spluttered sort of sound on Tana’s dad’s end.  


_“Oi, I said a half---”_  


“Whatever, man. Just get here when you get here,” the cook insisted, reaching out to run a finger over the rim of his coffee mug absently. He was already craving another cigarette. “We’ll be waiting.”  


_“Fine,”_ said the man, and there was another pause. _“And can you tell Tana….”_ But then, a frustrated noise, and a rushed, _“Nevermind. I’ll be there soon.”_  


Then, another silence, followed soon after by a dial tone, and Sanji realized the asshole had hung up on him.  


Slowly, he brought the phone down from his ear, checking the screen to see he’d indeed been disconnected, then he slid the device back to Tana.  


She took it, putting it back in her pocket immediately, as if she didn’t want to look at it anymore.  


“Still time to back out,” Sanji said after a minute, offering her a small smile. “I can kick his ass when he comes round.”  


This earned him a quiet laugh from Tana, who looked a little more relaxed than she had a second ago.  


“Maybe he needs that….” she admitted, smirking up at Sanji.  


The cook smiled, then seemed to come to some sort of decision as he reached in his pocket for his own phone.  


“Tell you what,” he said, unsure of what compelled him to do so. “I’ll give you my number. You ever need somewhere to go again, or just someone to talk to, call me. Okay?”  


She looked at him for a long minute, eyes narrowing a bit.  


“Can I call if I want free food?”  


“Alright, don’t _abuse_ it,” Sanji insisted with a chuckle, gesturing to her pocket. “Here, get ready.”  


She pulled her phone back out with a grin on her face, scrolling through to her contacts and typing in his number when he dictated it to her.  


She paused afterwards, however, looking at the screen as if contemplating something.  


“What?” he asked, raising a brow.  


“I’m trying to think of what to call you---”  


“Sanji. You put Sanji Vinsmoke in there! No nicknames!”  


“Vinsmoke,” she repeated, wrinkling her nose and laughing as she began to type. “Your last name’s weird too. Okay, Mr…….Curly…...Brow…”  


_“Curly_ Brow?! What the hell!” he yelped in response. “The hell does that even mean?!”  


“Your eyebrow’s curly!” she insisted, gesturing to the end of her own. “It goes up at the end!”  


Sanji’s jaw dropped, as if horrified, and he hurried to open the camera on his phone so he could see for himself, frantically smoothing over his with a finger as he did.  


Tana giggled, watching him vainly fret over something so silly.  


“That’s payback for calling me a shrimp~”  


A grumbling sound left him, but he closed his camera and set his phone down with a glare.  


“You’re helping me clean up,” he said abruptly, and a triumphant grin worked its way onto his face when that statement wiped hers right off.  


* * *

Forty-seven minutes after that tensely awkward phone call, boots clomped quickly up those back steps, the ones he’d been instructed to use by the guy whose name he’d completely forgotten in his anger.  


That was stupid. That was probably stupid as _fuck_ considering he still wasn’t _positive_ his daughter was safe, but dammit, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else but following the only lead he had, rushing out that door and _going._  


He hadn’t wanted to call the cops. He’d been fucking scared to because what if he _lost_ her? What if they took her from him?  


No. He refused to even think about that. He _wouldn’t_ let that happen.  


And that was why he was willing to face whatever was behind that door, provided he hadn’t been given a false lead…  


He reached the top of the stairs, found himself on a small, wooden deck-style balcony overlooking the water. There was a door, and beyond it, he heard voices.  


And one of those voices was most certainly his daughter’s.  


He wasted no time, leather jacket straining as he lifted an arm to rap insistently on the door.  


Instantly, the voices stopped, or rather, quieted so he could no longer hear them.  


Another few seconds passed, and dammit, he did _not_ have the patience for this. Not when he felt ready to explode from the coiled tension within him.  


He knocked again, louder, only to have the door swing open abruptly, leaving him standing there with his arm raised in the face of a lanky blond man, who was looking him over with a brow raised and a deadpan expression.  


He lowered his arm, eyes flicking behind the stranger until he spotted his daughter standing by a couch, her gaze meeting his for a second before she looked away.  


“Tana!” he exclaimed, and began to barrel his way forward, but the blond stopped him, planting a hand onto the door frame to block his entrance.  


“Hold up,” he said, then looked back over his shoulder to the girl. “This your dad?”  


Tana bit her lip, gaze still downcast, but she nodded.  


This seemed to appease the blond, who lowered his hand from the door frame slowly.  


“You can come in,” he said, jerking his chin towards the apartment’s interior. “I’m Sanji, by the way. The guy you hung up on.”  


Tana’s dad merely grunted, feeling no remorse for that, and stepped past the blond to enter.  


“Zoro,” the man replied gruffly. “Zoro Roronoa….”


	2. The Tiger

Sanji eyed the man---Zoro---warily as he stalked past, noting that shock of green hair, his angular features that seemed to be set in a permanent scowl, not to mention those three golden earrings hanging from one ear. The guy was burly as fuck. Even beneath his leather jacket, Sanji could tell how muscular he was.

How could this fucking bodybuilder type possibly be the father of a slim little half-pint like the girl currently stood across the room?

He supposed that nonsensical fact of life fell into the same odd category as Tana’s apparent proficiency for all things martial arts. Though, if _this_ was her dad, then said proficiency did make a bit more sense.

He shut the door behind him, watching the man the whole time in case he tried to just grab the girl and run, but that didn’t happen.

In fact, as soon as he entered, he just kind of stood to the side, a little awkwardly. He was watching his daughter, but there was no running hug or heartfelt reunion.

The two didn’t really seem to know what to do with each other.

The cook blew out a breath. Looked like he may have to play a game of mediator now, wouldn’t he…

“Can I get you something to drink?” Sanji asked, ever a host.

Zoro made another grunt, almost a snort, and shook his head, not making eye contact. It was actually kind of amazing how much the man could communicate with just a single syllabled noise.

“S’fine,” he muttered. “I’d rather just go. Tana, come on.”

The girl had a complete look of hesitance about her though, and she still wouldn’t even look at her dad, so Sanji stepped in.

“Well, hold on,” he asserted. “Don’t you wanna know more about how she got here? How I found her? _Anything?”_

Zoro looked a little annoyed, finally flicking an irritated gaze at the blond.  


“She can tell me that herself. It’s _fine.”_  


Sanji huffed a breath, already feeling rather thrown off by this guy’s complete lack of compliance.  


“You’re not even going to interrogate the random stranger who took care of your kid?”  


“Do you _want_ me to?” Zoro growled, and while Sanji really wasn’t sure he _did,_ he also didn’t understand why he was trying to fucking rush this so much. Sanji wasn’t a parent, but if he had been, he would have wanted to know every _detail_ of what happened.  


It was as if the guy wanted his daughter out of there as quickly as possible so he could do fuck _knows_ what out of Sanji’s sight. Punish her? What? He fucking hoped he wouldn’t _hurt_ her.  


“The hell is your problem?” the cook shot back irritably. “Shouldn’t you be concerned here? Your daughter was _missing_ for a night!”  


“You think I don’t know that?” Zoro replied, glaring at Sanji with dark eyes, like the man _expected_ the cook to back down, expected his glower to intimidate him into submission.  


Sanji narrowed eyes right back, shook his head almost in disbelief, certainly with disappointment.  


He was seeing his own father all over again. The dismissiveness, the apparent lack of concern for his child, who was _clearly_ still upset.  


Tana still wouldn’t look at her dad, and it seemed his fucking attitude was suppressing her somehow. For fuck’s sake, she’d been happily talking just a mere minute ago, telling some ridiculous story about a teacher of hers at school who used to be a rock musician and would hide shit in his afro. And now she wouldn’t say a word.  


He remembered that feeling----that terrible life-sucking energy that his own father used to emit whenever he was in his presence. He couldn’t be himself; he couldn’t do _anything_ save for shut up and hope he didn’t do something to displease his father… Because despite the stifling fear he had of him, he also had the stupid desire to make him proud…. _somehow._  


He could see it, his own past playing out right in front of him. Only now, with his father gone, any lingering qualms he had about standing up to him were long gone as well. He wouldn’t take shit like this anymore.  


“Then fucking act like a father, what the hell!” the cook hissed, taking a step closer to the man. He hadn’t intended on getting confrontational, but if that was the way this was heading, he wasn’t planning on stopping himself. “When a good kid like her runs away, don’t you think it implies something’s _wrong?”_  


“And that’s none of your business, asshole!” Tana’s dad gritted out through clenched teeth, storming right up to the blond, puffing himself up and showing a hint of smugness when he gained an extra centimeter on him.  


Sanji didn’t care. He snarled right back, baring teeth and curling a lip in a scowl.  


“Well, excuse me for feeling a _little_ invested considering I took her in off the _street!”_ he insisted, feeling practically every bit of his being bristling in the face of Zoro’s ferocity. It had been a long-ass time since he’d felt this damn angry.  


The air grew tense, the other man having leaned in closer, his voice lowering dangerously.  


_“And if you laid even **one** fucking finger on her, I swear to **fuck** I will----”_  


_“Stop.”_  


Sanji’s jaw, already half open with another retort, snapped shut, and both men felt their gazes wrenched to Tana.  


The girl stood, small fists clenched at her sides, her brow furrowed in a way that actually mimicked her father’s surly expression quite well.  


She stood that way for a long minute, to the point where the two wondered if she’d say anything more at all.  


But eventually, she shook her head dismissively and muttered, “Let’s just go,” before striding past them towards the door without further glance.  


She paused there, and looked back over her shoulder, meeting the cook’s eye for a sliver of a second, then averting her gaze again.  


“Thanks, Sanji,” she said quietly, almost dejectedly, and she waited there in uncomfortable silence for her dad to make for the door as well.  


It didn’t take him long to do just that, taking his daughter’s cue to back off from Sanji, not without a lingering glare.  


Then he too strode across the room silently, pulling it open and jerking his chin for his daughter to head out first.  


Sanji stared after the two, a little dumbfounded, not to mention still seething from his dispute with Tana’s dad. His blood still boiled, and he felt utterly flustered, pulled back from the brink of outburst so quickly. He could honestly kick the damn wall in, he thought.  


But his frustration began to simmer into a bit of panic as he watched the girl walk to the door morosely, out onto the deck as if she were walking the plank, the deep ocean stretching out beneath. To say he was _attached_ would be a bit strong, but dammit, he was _worried._ He didn’t want any harm to come to her, and certainly not because he’d sat by and let her go passively.  


So when he finally regained his wits a few seconds later, he caught the door before the green-haired bastard could slam it shut and leaned out insistently. He stuck his thumb and pinky out and brought his hand to his ear, imploring Tana with his eyes to do as the gesture suggested. To call him if _anything_ went wrong.  


He didn’t know what he intended to do if she did, but if he could help make one kid’s life a bit less shitty than his own had been, he’d feel good about himself.  


She caught the gesture just before she began to descend the stairs, her dad following close behind and, thankfully, missing the exchange.  


Sanji watched them go, suppressing, with all of his might, the urge to yell something choice at the guy as he left, but he held himself back.  


Surprisingly, however, as Tana disappeared from view down the steps, Zoro looked back, brow still furrowed, and gaze still fierce as he locked eyes with Sanji one last time, lips parting slightly.  


For a moment, it looked like he might say something, and the blond had a glimmer of hope, that maybe the man would thank him after all, and he’d be able to feel a little better about letting this happen.  


But that moment passed, and whatever Zoro may have voiced never made it out of him. He quickly hurried after his daughter as if running from the very thought of it and leaving Sanji to wonder what the fuck had just happened.  


The cook didn’t reenter his apartment until about three full cigarettes later.  


* * *

Zoro should have thanked the man. He could have, almost _did_ in fact, but something had stopped him. In fact, something had rubbed him the wrong way from the instant he laid eyes on the blond.  


Instinctively, he didn’t trust the guy. There had been something about him, despite his apparent hospitality. Something about his face, the way his hair flopped over one eye as it did, the odd curl to his visible eyebrow. Had he looked familiar? Sounded familiar? He couldn’t place it, but there was something he didn’t trust, and it left him incapable of being civil, rose his hackles entirely.  


Or that could have just been his own stubbornness.  


And in fact, it very well might have been that overwhelming desire to blame someone else for all this. To insist that he wasn’t a terrible father---that there were far worse people out there. That he wasn’t the only person that let the wrong emotions overpower him----fear, anger…. guilt.  


He couldn’t fight it. And despite the utter relief he felt for finding his daughter safe and sound, Zoro couldn’t even muster the strength to push down his own bitterness with _himself_ and fucking _thank_ the man, despite his suspicions.  


This was his fault, after all. Everything was his fault, and Tana had been right. He was weak now, powerless to regain any semblance of strength or control---of decency that he might have once had.  


He felt well and truly feral.  


And he felt it particularly when he reached out to plant a hand on his daughter’s shoulder ahead of him as they neared the mouth of the alley.  


Because she flinched when he did, and though he had never harmed her physically, he couldn’t say that he wouldn’t. Not anymore.  


He withdrew his hand as quickly as he’d placed it there, still forced to look at the back of her head, for while she slowed to a halt, she didn’t turn to face him.  


They’d been together again for two months, and yet they still hadn’t faced each other, in more ways than one.  


“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Zoro asked, the concern that might have fueled the question masked by the robotic sound of his voice.  


There was a long pause during which Tana seemed to be aware, aware that it was what a father would ask, but it wasn’t _how_ one would ask.  


But he wasn’t much of one anymore, was he. They both knew it.  


The wood of the dock creaked beneath their feet, the water lapping with it, and it was the way that his daughter’s hair lifted in the soft breeze, the sound of his own golden earrings clinking together gently on his left ear….  


He’d seen this before. Before, when things were yet untouched. It was a sense of déjà vu, and it was one so powerful that he nearly reached out. He nearly said the things he should have. He thought about how he’d felt the previous sleepless night, thinking he’d destroyed things again, lost things again, and he nearly crumbled.  


He missed her. He missed her immensely. He missed his daughter, but even more so, he missed what they’d once had. The three of them...  


The moment passed, and, as was becoming characteristic, Zoro’s mouth stayed shut.  


“No,” Tana eventually answered. _“He_ didn’t.”  


That was the last either of them spoke the entire way home, silent through the streets, through the subway, and through the stairwell to their fourth floor apartment on the edge of the park.  


The space was bigger than Sanji’s, what with the extra bedroom, but that space felt far less organized. They’d been living there for a month and a half, but there were still unpacked boxes along the wall, boxes that held memories neither of them seemed to want to uncover. So there they sat, in front of empty shelves and blank wall space that should have held pictures or decorations, as their old apartment had.  


Tana paused only to kick her shoes off at the entrance before she made her way through the small kitchen and around the corner directly to her room, the door of which was ajar, she noticed. She definitely hadn’t left it that way, meaning her dad must have gone in looking for her. She had to suppress annoyance at that, stopping at the doorway to turn her head back towards her dad.  


“Call me out of school today. I don’t feel good,” she mumbled, despite the fact that it was now well past the call-in time. It would probably count as an unexcused absence by now.  


Then, without waiting for a reply, she slunk into her room and closed the door behind her.  


Zoro watched her go silently, a numb gaze fixed on her door for a minute afterward.  


For some reason, the blond’s words from earlier ran through his head again, as irritating as that was.  


Shouldn’t he be concerned here?  


Yes. Yes, absolutely. And he was, but he knew he wasn’t the one who was going to help. He was the one who was going to make things worse. And that also concerned him.  


He’d been against Tana moving back in with him. He’d wanted her to stay with her grandfather, but the man had insisted they come back together. That the only way to heal _would_ be to stay together.  


But from the moment they’d met again, it hadn’t been possible. They’d each established their own independent ways of coping, and neither of those ways involved each other. It had been a year, after all, that they’d been apart. A year since everything had gone wrong, and a year in a child’s life might have been an eternity.  


And even such, how was he supposed to talk to his daughter? How was he supposed to be honest with her when he still wasn’t _ready_ for her to know the whole truth?  


Telling her now would surely squash any hope of mending their relationship. It didn’t really matter _when_ he told her. It would definitely ruin what little they had left.  


And if he lost her too….  


Zoro pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts until he found the school’s number, ignoring the missed calls from Tana’s grandfather for now.  


The call to the administration was short, his voice monotone as he relayed that his daughter wouldn’t be attending that day. The woman on the other end reminded him of the call-out hour, between seven and eight, and he heard himself give a hollow apology before ending the call and standing in silence again.  


He opened only one text after that, because its sender was one of the few people who still forced her way into his life. Someone he’d been close to since he was nineteen years old.  


_‘I overheard my son speaking with Tana this morning. Are you aware of this?’_ it read.  


_‘Shes home now,’_ was all he replied with, and Robin responded nearly immediately.  


_‘I’m relieved to hear this. Have you spoken with her?’_  


_‘No,’_ he typed back. _‘she didnt wanna talk.’_  


Again, Robin read the message and began a reply right away. And this time, her curt frustration came through loud and clear.  


_‘You know my thoughts on this, Zoro,’_ she wrote. _‘If this wake-up call was not enough to thaw your stubbornness, then I’m afraid I don’t know what will. This isn’t fair to her.’_  


He read it, and his chest _burned_ because he knew she was right. He told himself this all the time, but dammit, he was scared. He would always be scared.  


_‘I know its not,’_ he replied simply.  


There was a long minute between when the message was read and when Robin started typing.  


_‘Please call us tonight. Do you work?’_ she eventually sent, and Zoro felt the way he often did talking to his older friend. He felt like a foolish child awaiting the scolding of his mother.  


He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, took a few deep breaths that didn’t do much to calm him.  


He should accept her advice. Robin was far wiser than he, a far better parent than he. Her husband, Franky was too. And their two sons were great friends to his daughter.  


But part of him didn’t want to hear it.  


All he wanted was for things to go back to how they were, for the last year and a half of his life to have never happened and for it never _to_ happen. He’d managed to live with no regrets until then. But he’d never wished for a do-over more than he did now.  


_‘No,’_ he sent to Robin, to which she quickly wrote back, _‘Good. Then we will await your call.’_  


He left it at that, closing the chat window and pocketing his phone once more.  


No work that day, and now his daughter was home. That should have meant something. It used to.  


And yet, he found himself leaving his daughter’s closed door untouched, instead making his way to the couch, where he stretched out and stared blankly at the ceiling.  


He was exhausted, his night indeed having been sleepless, and his heart thudded uncomfortably in his tight chest.  


It was hard for him to even talk to _her_ in his head. _Her,_ whom he had lost. He didn’t feel like he deserved to, like he had any right to. But when she occupied his mind every minute of every day, waking or not, he felt like he’d trapped her there, like even this wasn’t allowing her to escape. Like he’d taken yet another important thing from her.  


He saw her face when he closed his eyes, saw the features that looked so much like his daughter’s, even though she’d always insisted Tana looked more like him.  


He heard her ghostly voice, her laugh, remembered the feeling of their blades clashing, the triumphant smirk she always wore when she’d beaten him yet again---and continued to wear when she crawled atop his fallen form and kissed him, made him forget his frustrations and rewarded him as if _he’d_ won.  


She was lithe and powerful, often more powerful than him, but she’d made him feel like he could do anything. That they could do anything _together._  


She would hold their daughter and tell her this. She would talk to her, include her. They both would. Tana was just as immensely important to them as they’d been to each other.  


Their family was his biggest pride and joy, and it was something he’d never get back---of his own fault.  


Tears ran silent tracks down his face, but he didn’t feel them, hardly even reacted to them.  


It was more a bodily reflex than anything, because he wouldn’t allow himself this upset. He’d done this himself, brought this all on himself. He had no business feeling sorry.  


He’d never been strong enough.  


* * *

_“Well, I must admit. It is rather inspiring to have you pay a visit to our humble dojo, Mr. Mihawk,” Koshiro mused with a small tilt of lips, gesturing for the other man to have a seat across from his desk. “I don’t suppose I could invite you to give a demonstration to our students.”_  


_Mihawk settled his tall frame into the indicated chair, crossing one long leg over the other, somehow managing to look entirely the world-renowned master swordsman that he was, even sitting there in a dark jacket with floral lining and a pair of lavender-hued pants. He fixed the bespectacled man with a feline-like gaze, clasping hands together atop a knee._  


_“I’m afraid I am simply here to enroll my nephew in classes, nothing more,” the swordsman replied smoothly, watching as Koshiro gathered the necessary permission forms and disclaimers from a small filing cabinet beside his desk. His long, dark ponytail nearly skimmed the top of his obi. It was rather impressive.  
_

_Finally, Koshiro turned around and sat opposite Mihawk, laying out the paperwork._  


_“While I’m flattered you have chosen our establishment,” the owner said, reaching for a pen. “Might I ask why you have not elected to train the boy yourself?”_  


_“I have,” Mihawk replied. “He has reached sho-dan proficiency, and I have introduced all ten kata to him. But I believe it would be best for him to learn alongside his peers.”_  


_Koshiro’s brows raised, the man stopping his writing for a moment to glance up at Mihawk in surprise._  


_“Sho-dan? Forgive me, sir, but the boy did not look to be thirteen,” he noted in regards to the age requirement, to which Mihawk managed a subtle smirk, staring back calmly. _  
__

_“In fact he is not, but I hear you are no stranger to bending the rules for talented children, are you.”_  


_Koshiro couldn’t help but return the smirk, knowing the man was right, and he gave a conceding nod._  


_“Very well,” he allowed, picking up his pen again and poising it over one of the forms. “His name?”_  


_“Zoro Roronoa,” Mihawk dictated, also clarifying the spelling as Koshiro’s pen moved fluidly._  


_“Age?”_  


_“Ten years old.”_  


_Again, Koshiro had to give a small shake of his head in disbelief, but he supposed he’d have to trust the word of a professionally-trained master of kenjutsu._  


_“Height?”_  


_And so it went, the sensei taking down the information about this rather interesting little boy before finally turning the paper around to face his guest, tapping a signature line at the bottom and sliding the pen across the desk to him._  


_“A parental signature is necessary, unless you are his legal guardian, sir?” the man asked, to which Mihawk nodded and took up the pen to sign the page with a flourish._  


_“I am,” Mihawk replied simply, and Koshiro didn’t press further._  


_He merely nodded as well and set a few more pages down for Mihawk to sign, all detailing the risks and liabilities involved in practicing such a sport, before reassembling all the papers in a stack._  


_“Now then,” Koshiro said. “I thank you for your time, Mr. Mihawk. But before we schedule him, I’d like to see a demonstration of the boy’s skill, if that’s alright. It will give me a better assessment of where to place him.”_  


_“This is fine,” Mihawk said, fingers twisting casually at one of his many rings. “Though I must warn, the boy lacks self-control. He is reckless, and often does not know his own strength. He must be disciplined heavily in this area.”  
_

_Koshiro adjusted his glasses with a gentle smile._  


_“In that case, he sounds like a good match for my daughter.”_  


* * *

_Zoro had gotten far too bored sitting there on the bench outside the office, kicking short legs absently over the edge. He couldn’t just sit there for much longer, not when he could hear the clacking of shinai and see some shadows of movement beyond the sliding doors of the various rooms along the otherwise quiet hall._  


_The boy huffed a breath, arms crossed sulkily over his chest, and, after waiting another thirty seconds, finally hopped up off the bench and shuffled across the hall in slippers that were a little too big for him._  


_He stopped in front of one of the doors, then glanced both ways down the empty corridor. He could still hear the voices of his uncle and the owner from behind the office door. The boy supposed it was as good a time as any to snoop around._  


_He’d never trained in a place like this before, after all. His uncle had taught him, but alone, in the garage-turned-dojo beyond the backyard of his house, and he’d only started because he’d taken to punching and breaking things, channeling his young frustrations in far too destructive ways._  


_But it was hard not to at first. He’d never had a father figure in his life, and he hadn’t even known he **had** relatives beyond his mom until she went and died on him, and he ended up in his paternal uncle’s care. Half-uncle actually. None of which he’d understood at the time, nor **remembered** clearly six years later. He just recalled feeling sad and lonely, and a lot of that persisted to this day. He was no good at making friends._  


_And yet, he didn’t hesitate to slide open that door quietly, peeking through the crack stealthily._  


_It was a training room, but it was empty, save for one young girl practicing alone inside. She wore a loose pair of training pants and a white T-shirt, her uwagi discarded against the wall as she waved about a long bamboo shinai that looked to be nearly her height._  


_But she wielded it with ease, practicing her kata forms fluidly and with hardly a hint of exertion on her determined features. In fact, when she finished, she merely straightened for a second, tucked an out-of-place lock of dark blue hair behind her ear before starting again._  


_She was good, with no flaws in her footwork, and no quivering limbs breaking position. Her practice was graceful and quiet, the opposite of Zoro, who had yet to learn to reel in his energy, despite having proficient form himself._  


_It should have been relaxing and calming to watch her routine, but instead, Zoro found himself itching with the urge to spar. He felt almost certain he could take her. He’d never been able to overtake his uncle, but this girl was far closer to his size, and she was thin. Maybe her movements were skilled, but surely he could win by brute force. He knew he was strong._  


_So the split-second decision was made. The boy laid in wait no longer. He threw open the door the rest of the way and sprang into the room unannounced, kicking off his slippers at the door and striding right on in, still dressed in his jeans and T-shirt which proudly declared, almost as boldly as his entrance, that he’d survived the Bubble Coaster at Sabaody Park._  


_“Hey!” he exclaimed, bare feet slapping on the tatami mats until he stopped a few paces in. “I wanna fight you!”_  


_The girl paused, shinai swung above her in a broad arc, and slowly turned her head to look at him._  


_“Who are **you?** " she asked, quirking a brow at the boorish little boy who stood nearly trembling with pent-up energy across the room._  


_“I’m here to challenge you!” Zoro proclaimed, as if he’d traveled over hill and dale for that very purpose._  


_“Oh, it seems they’re already acquainted,” came an amused voice behind him, and Zoro was forced to break his fierce stare to see his uncle and the dojo’s owner standing in the doorway. He hadn’t heard them approach._  


_The boy wilted a little guiltily in the face of his stern uncle, the one person who could intimidate him with the silent threat of a scolding, but none such was given, not even from the owner._  


_Instead, the man had a rather self-assured smile on his face when he spoke again._  


_“Kuina, this is Mr. Mihawk’s nephew, Zoro, our new student,” he introduced, addressing the girl across the room. “I believe he will join the advanced class with you, but I would like you to evaluate his skill all the same.”_  


_The girl had lowered her shinai, eyes widening a bit when she noticed Mihawk standing beside her father. Perhaps the swordsman kept himself far from the spotlight in regards to his skill, but he was still rather famed among their sport’s circle nonetheless. She certainly knew of him, and to think he was here, in her family’s dojo….._  


_Well, it wasn’t like her to get starstruck, and it was even easier to feel confident when faced with this kid who looked about as intimidating as an angry hamster._  


_“He’s not even dressed right, Daddy,” she replied, a little haughtily, even Mihawk having to smirk a bit at the girl’s attitude._  


_“That’s quite alright,” Koshiro chuckled in response. “This is informal. So long as you resist inflicting harm on one another.”_  


_“I don’t need armor to beat **you!** ” Zoro screeched unnecessarily, with far too much audacity._  


_Again, Koshiro chuckled and nodded to his daughter, who’d immediately fixed the boy with a barely-concealed scowl in response._  


_“Kuina, please fetch him a practice shinai---”_  


_“Two!” Zoro demanded, to which Koshiro glanced over at Mihawk in mild surprise._  


_The swordsman had closed eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh._  


_“My apologies,” he muttered, for the boy’s brashness._  


_Kuina, meanwhile, had begun to do as told, stalking across the room and sliding open one of the panels along the wall to reveal a small closet which held extra armor and weapons, a few practice dummies._  


_She hesitantly pulled out two smaller shinai, eyeing Zoro with skepticism the whole time._  


_“Do you even **know** two-sword style?” she asked, sliding the panel shut again and crossing over to Zoro.  
_

_“No,” the shorter boy replied with a shrug, holding out hands insistently for the practice swords._  


_She stared at him for a beat, then turned to shoot a doubtful look at her dad, the silent question of why the hell she had to spar this idiot written all over her features._  


_But the man still appeared far too amused with all this, watching the scene with that calm smile._  


_“Let’s see what happens, shall we?” he said, gesturing for her to hand Zoro the swords and proceed to the center of the space so they could begin._  


_And he had the same calm smile on his face not five minutes later, when, somewhat unsurprisingly, Zoro lay flat on his back in the middle of the floor, a red welt forming over his forehead from where Kuina’s shinai had connected, his pair scattered on the mats far from his grasp._  


_“That will be all, Kuina,” the father said to his daughter, who pulled back, trying hard to hide any smugness from her expression (though that was difficult after defeating such an arrogant little twerp)._  


_Koshiro turned to Mihawk, and noted, “I think he’ll do well in the advanced classes after all,” Mihawk looking satisfied and nodding in response._  


_Kuina’s gaze narrowed, still fixed on the beaten boy before her._  


_“But Daddy, he’s an amateur,” she grumbled, seemingly forgetting the presence of the boy’s stoic uncle entirely. “He’s nowhere near the----”_  


_“So what!”_  


_All three of them watched as Zoro slowly sat himself up, pressing a hand to his forehead for a moment, before he lifted a fierce gaze to the girl stood above him. He sat there panting for a few moments, seemingly preparing himself for what he was going to say next._  


_“I’m gonna train, y’know,” he said seriously. “I’m gonna train every day, an’ then I’m gonna beat you!”_  


_His cheeks were red with embarrassment, a deep, pouty frown on his face, eyes narrowed in contempt as he huffed, “Remember that!”_  


_How could she forget it, looking at a stupid face like that?_  


* * *

Tana’s room was the only room in the apartment that largely embraced the past. It was the only place she felt she _could_ safely look back these days. So her walls, particularly the ones enveloping her bed, were adorned with photos, some of which she’d taken herself, scattered between the two large posters she had that detailed ancient Japanese swords. Photos of her and her parents.  


Her mother had always been photogenic, always _willing_ to take pictures, unlike her father, and it showed in her bright and confident smile.  


There were photos from Tana’s first major kendo competition nearly two years ago, one with Tana standing, a brilliant grin on her face, holding her winning trophy under one arm and flexing the other. Her mother joined her in the pose, playfully mimicking it behind her, Zoro trying to casually avoid being in the picture, but looking proud nonetheless.  


There were photos from their trip to Japan, of her dad looking horrified in Harajuku, but much more content at the Imperial Palace grounds.  


There were photos of Oliver’s mom’s museum opening, probably the fanciest event she’d ever been to. Her and her parents had all worn matching black suits against their will, following the dress code. She hadn’t liked it at the time, but they looked like a family of spies, and for that she thought it was cool now.  


But her favorites weren’t the obvious ones. They weren’t even the properly posed ones. No, they were usually candid, and she was immensely grateful she had them.  


Because they captured moments she didn’t want to forget, moments about how things used to be.  


Her mom knelt at her level, giving her advice before a match.  


Her dad showing her how to polish a blade in one, holding her upside down like a monkey in another.  


There was her mom keeping Tana’s arm steady as she taught her a new kata, looking her twin in a similar white uniform, her dark blue hair kept in the same short chin-length bob she’d had since childhood.  


And there were both of her parents before their own competition, standing close, her dad with his hands on her mom’s hips, gazing into the woman’s eyes intently as she fiddled with the black bandana on his head, mouth open as if the photo was snapped mid-sentence, most likely during a pep talk.  


This was how things were, and how things would never be again.  


But these were things she didn’t want to think about in that moment, lest the loneliness and anger work its way back to the forefront.  


So she kept her back to those photos as she lay there on her bed, blinking out at the rest of the room, the pair of windows that overlooked the park across the street, her closet open and spewing clothes messily onto the floor.  


When her phone went off this time, she looked at it through watery eyes, vibrating softly on the bed beside her. It was her grandpa calling, and as much as she wanted to lie there forever with no further human interaction, she knew she probably owed him some kind of explanation.  


Not to mention she wanted to know if he was going to heed her father’s insistence that she not attend the tournament….though she was probably benched now just for running away alone…  


A hand snuck out, and she picked up, bringing the device to her ear and murmuring, “Hi, Grandpa…” quietly.  


His surprised reaction was immediate, the quick inhale on his end, and then his level, but insistent reply.  


_“Tana---are you home? Where have you been? Are you alright?”_ Koshiro asked urgently, to which the girl sighed, expecting the frantic reaction.  


“I’m fine, Grandpa,” she replied to the barrage of questions, curling up further in a ball on her bed. “I’m home. I just couldn’t be here last night….”  


_“Why didn’t you call me?”_ he asked, following a heavy sigh. _“I told you to call me if you---”_  


“I _know,”_ she muttered, a little irritably, and a little guiltily at that. In hindsight, she really should have….  


Another heavy sigh from her grandfather’s end, and she could picture him adjusting his glasses and running a hand over his mouth as he did when he was concerned.  


_“Well, you’re safe, and that’s what matters to me.... But I must ask, what started all this….?”_  


“Um...” Tana mumbled hesitantly in reply.  


And by the time she’d finished recounting the previous night’s events, she hesitantly waited for his response, not liking the way he stayed silent for a long time afterward.  


_“Tana…”_ he eventually said quietly, and her hand clenched the phone instinctively in anticipation of what that tone held. _“You’re not going to like this. But in this case, I agree with your father.”_  


Tana nearly dropped the phone when she abruptly pushed up to her elbow in her shock.  


“What?! But---”  


_“Tana, you have surpassed the skill of your age group, and, as you know, you cannot formally compete in the fourteen to fifteen bracket yet. You may still perform in the exhibition rounds, but I’m afraid combat is out of the ques---”_  


“But Grandpa!” she interrupted. “I still wanna do it! I told my dad I can obviously win, but he--!”  


_“I am well aware of this,”_ Koshiro replied calmly. _“But your strength poses a danger to the other members of your age group. This was his concern, and mine as well after thinking on the matter.”_  


“But he said I wasn’t strong _enough!_ I _am!_ And if the other kids get mad about it, then that’s _their_ problem!”  


_“Tana,”_ he cut in scoldingly as she panted angrily into the phone. _“There are different kinds of strength. The strength to overpower….and the strength to hold yourself back, to have **patience…** ”_  


Her grandpa’s voice trailed off slightly, almost seemed to waver, but she still seethed, dragging a hand into her hair with a huff of breath.  


She didn’t reply right away, not understanding _why_ all this was happening. She hadn’t understood anything for a _while._ And no one seemed to want to talk about it.  


“I just----! I don’t _get it!”_ she growled into the phone eventually, tears pricking at her eyes involuntarily. “Everything was totally fine until Mom---!”  


Her voice broke, and she quickly brought her hand to her mouth, drove her forehead into the pillow to try and keep herself from breaking down.  


There was a long silence, neither of them speaking.  


Eventually, Koshiro’s murmured reply came through.  


_“Perhaps you’ll understand some day,”_ was all he said, his tone sympathetic, and somewhat regretful.  


And to Tana, it was infuriating.  


* * *

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? The guy was a _complete_ asshole!” Sanji hissed, furiously sauteeing a batch of mushrooms, the sound of their sizzling in the pan almost as angry as him. “For all I know, he took her home and cooked her for dinner!”  


“Nice image, Sanji…” Carne muttered as he passed by, carrying a crate of potatoes through the busy kitchen. It was mid-day, and the blond had not stopped fretting about this kid ever since he’d told the story to his coworkers.  


“I’m sure she’s fine,” Patty grumbled from a few stations down, tending to a steak. He was already growing rather annoyed with the blond’s bitching. “Kids get pissed at their parents all the time.”  


“Was _I_ ever fine though?!” Sanji insisted, roughly scraping the mushrooms onto their designated serving plate. He didn’t care how many people he annoyed. Their lack of understanding here was, frankly, grating on his own nerves. “No! I wasn’t! My brothers were beating me up every damn day, and my dad wasn’t doing fuck all about it! Mental abuse is just as bad as physical abuse sometimes! And she did _not _seem to be the ordinary kind of upset!”  
__

“She’s not your kid, man. There’s nothing you can do if ya don’t got proof,” Patty muttered, though it didn’t seem Sanji was listening now.  


“The guy didn’t even care! He didn’t even thank me or seem relieved to see her! I mean what a shitty punk! I thought maybe he was acting all tough to hide his worry, but dammit, _nothing_ was right about him!”  


Patty and Carne shared a look, knowing there was likely nothing they could do to get Sanji to shut up about it now. The blond would run his fiery mouth until his anger had run its course.  


Besides, maybe they could admit it was a nice change of pace. It had been a long time since they’d seen Sanji fired up about...well, _anything._ He might have been good at hiding it, but his closest friends could tell he’d been depressed for the past year. Ever since he’d finally managed to take off his ring, he’d been trying extra hard to return to normal in front of them, but this was the first they’d _really_ seen of their friend’s true colors in a long-ass time.  


“Look, Sanji. Yer old man’s gonna be pissed if you fuck up anyone’s order due to all this,” Patty said, a little cautiously.  


“Like I would fuck up an order---!”  


“I’m just _saying._ Maybe you oughta go take a breather. Have a cigarette or somethin’---cool off. We got your back.”  


Sanji growled under his breath, not stopping his work despite Patty’s urges. He often worked better with tensions high anyway.  


“It’ll just eat at me more without a distraction,” the cook grumbled, giving another sizzling pan a shake that ignited a large flame. He didn’t even flinch. “Excuse me if I’m physically incapable of _not caring.”_  


That was true enough. In fact, the blond was usually far too caring, to the point where he’d neglect himself.  


“Well, at least he’s passionate about something again,” Carne mumbled to Patty under his breath when he passed by for the second time.  


“What was that?” Sanji shot back.  


Both men smirked.  


“Nothing.”  


* * *

Not even the hectic hours of the dinner shift had been enough to shake Sanji’s thoughts from the girl, and right up until closing time, he found himself stealing countless glances at his phone when he could, just in case Tana had called him. He hoped she fucking would, because he knew he would have _killed_ for an out like that as a kid.  


He hadn’t gotten his until age sixteen. And even then, his version, while also blond, had been nothing short of gruff and senile.  


As such, his own “savior” was hardly approving of the constant phone breaks he was taking that day, to the point he even threatened to dock Sanji’s pay if he didn’t leave it to rest until he was done working.  


Sanji didn’t care though. Since when had he ever respected Zeff’s words (openly, at least)?  


And now, in the solitude of his own apartment, he could worry all he wanted, thank you very much.  


Although, the quiet was actually more of a curse than a blessing, because it meant his inner thoughts were running wild and driving him to his laptop, which he had open on the counter before him, a cigarette between fingers as he debated just closing it and going to bed like he probably should have.  


But instead, he’d pulled up Facebook and begun typing Tana’s name into the search bar before he could stop himself.  


Was it creepy of him to search for a twelve-year-old girl online? Yes. And he could admit this to himself. But he simply wanted to see what more information about her situation he could uncover. At least that’s what he told himself as he perused the search results.  


Nothing. No one with her name even popped up, but he wouldn’t give up his hunt that easily.  


He typed ‘Tana east blue junior high’ next, wondering if she hadn’t made an account with a fake name. Kids did that, right?  


But no. Still nothing. Until he remembered that she was probably too young to have a Facebook….unless she lied about her age.  


So it was on to his next trial, one that he admittedly hesitated on considering he had no idea how to spell a name like ‘Zoro’.  


Honestly, Tana had had no business making fun of his name considering the weird-ass ones in her family.  


He tried ‘Zorro,’ but when that yielded nothing but fan pages for a certain masked outlaw of the same name, he decided to omit an ‘r’, just to see what it would do.  


Nothing of significance, apparently, because, again, nothing came up.  


If Tana’s dad had an account, he should’ve found it easily, considering the man’s unique name. Not to mention that green hair of his would surely stand out in any photos.  


But there was nothing. And he should’ve stopped there. He really should have, because it was weird enough to be stalking the man online as it was, and the lack of results should have been a sign.  


And yet, his curiosity was too great. He was too damn nosy for his own good. He might have started all this claiming concern for the girl, but this was just intrusive.  


Not that he cared. The guy had been a big enough ass to him that he felt totally okay being weird back. Not like he’d even find out he’d searched for him.  


The blond pulled open another tab, and typing the letter ‘g’ in the address bar was enough to pull up the Google homepage.  


He began typing Zoro’s name in the search bar, and was surprised to see his name actually pop up in the suggested searches, with one ‘r’, as was his second guess.  


The cook’s brows furrowed at that, but he hit ‘enter’ anyway and waited the few seconds for the results to pop up.  


And when they did, the cook’s jaw dropped, the hand his chin rested on slowly lowering back to the counter in his shock.  


For listed there were upwards of ten articles from various news sources, all of which shared the same shocking headline.  


_‘Shimotsuki resident, Zoro Roronoa, 30, charged with involuntary manslaughter for the death of Kuina Wakahisa.’_


	3. Distance

_Sanji stood in the police captain’s office, limbs still quivering from running all the way there from home. He’d called first, but as soon as they’d asked him to come to the station in person, he’d left, desperate to get out of his apartment. Desperate to leave the place that seemed to betray him at every angle with happy memories that were now mockingly false._

_He couldn’t have stayed there all night anyway. Even as he’d sprinted through the darkening streets of the city, foregoing a taxi, angry, wounded tears still pricking at his eyes, he’d stolen glances at his phone, almost expecting to see a message from her._

_Expecting her to tell him there was some mistake._

_She **couldn’t** have done this. Not Pudding. Not his sweet fiancée who **loved** him._

_And not with **Yonji** …._

_He **hadn’t** walked in on them, back early from his trip, looking to surprise her, only to have it turned on him instantly._

_Part of him still didn’t believe it, wanted to find **any** excuse, wanted to blame **anyone** else. And that was why he was here in this man’s office, having been shown in by a slightly clumsy woman with deep blue hair and glasses, and having recounted everything he’d first stammered furiously and nearly incoherently into the phone._

_“Mr. Vinsmoke. You are aware that, should they resist, we may have to use force in order for them to surrender.”_

_“I don’t care,” Sanji replied, yet to take a seat across from the man currently smoking not one, but two thick cigars at the desk in front of him._

_He couldn’t sit, not when he was still trembling all over, still struggling to keep control of himself. His chest seemed to throb, and he was hyper aware of the ring on his finger. The ring he hadn’t taken off, even as he watched, in shock, as she ripped hers off with glee._

_“I don’t care what you do,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice level. “I’ll tell you anything you need to know. I want them gone. I want them as far away from me as possible.”  
_

_Captain Smoker regarded the blond for a minute, this man who’d called the city’s police headquarters not an hour before with some **big** claims, ones that would surely be damning for those found guilty. It was surprising enough that he was reporting such a crime, considering the supposed perpetrators.  
_

_“Turning in your own brothers…” the white-haired man muttered quietly, tapping both cigars in a nearby ashtray and leaning back in his chair, the leather creaking slightly as he did. “That takes balls, Mr. Vinsmoke. But we’ll have to run an investigation on you as well.”  
_

_“I’m clean,” Sanji insisted, his tone almost bitter. “Search me all you want. I’ve got nothing to hide.”  
_

_Again, Smoker went quiet, a calculating gaze studying the man opposite him, who somehow managed to look furious and broken at the same time. Something had driven him here.  
_

_“I believe you,” Smoker eventually said. “That doesn’t exempt you, but I believe you. You and your family have been under our radar for a long time, Mr. Vinsmoke. In fact, if my memory serves me, one of the first investigations I witnessed as a young intern was of your father. For alleged child abuse, I believe? We never could charge him.”  
_

_His eyes flicked over Sanji knowingly. It had been over twenty years, but one couldn’t forget such terrible bruises on a child, if only in pictures.  
_

_The cook shifted uncomfortably, hands, buried deep in his pockets, clenching tightly. He said nothing. What was there to even say?  
_

_Smoker seemed to realize this, continuing after a few seconds.  
_

_“The Germa gang has been damn elusive. They’re good at moving locations, and they’re good at doing it quickly. And if what you say is true, and they’re helping to distribute---what was it----” He glanced at his notes. “One thousand kilos of illegal anabolic steroids? Then even I can admit it’s a rather incomprehensible feat. And one that is punishable with at least a few years in prison.”  
_

_“Good. Do what you have to do,” Sanji muttered, just before the same bespectacled woman who’d let him into Smoker’s office rushed in, nearly stumbling when she stopped short in the doorway.  
_

_Sanji noticed a few other police officers hurrying by in the background.  
_

_“Captain Smoker! We have an incident,” the woman announced, looking behind her a little distractedly before turning back to face them.  
_

_Smoker sighed, not looking too pleased with the interruption.  
_

_“What kind of incident, Tashigi?” he asked, tapping his cigars over the ashtray on his desk.  
_

_“One I think you should attend to, sir,” she replied, her gaze flicking to Sanji as if hesitant to speak in front of him. But she grudgingly added, “A woman has been killed….”  
_

_Smoker betrayed no shock or surprise, the man’s eyes moving to the blond, who’d dropped his head and looked firmly away towards the bookshelf on the opposite wall.  
_

_“How?” Smoker inquired, popping the cigars back into his mouth. “Car accident?”  
_

_Again, Tashigi looked over at Sanji, then back to Smoker. Her captain seemed to have no issues with Sanji being here while she divulged this information, but to her, it felt odd. Still, she had to answer.  
_

_“P-Possibly murder, sir,” she stuttered out quickly, immediately checking to see if Sanji had reacted.  
_

_He hadn’t.  
_

_And Smoker didn’t have much of a reaction either, beyond an eventual reluctant sigh.  
_

_The muscled man pushed himself up from his chair and crossed the room, cigars and all, tightly-laced boots plodding against the hardwood floor.  
_

_“Very well,” he said, and glanced at the blond.  
_

_“Have a seat, Mr. Vinsmoke. This shouldn’t take long,” he assured before striding from the room with Tashigi.  
_

* * *

Nearly two years later, Sanji’s heart thudded in his chest as he stared at that headline still screaming out to him from the screen.  


_‘Shimotsuki resident, Zoro Roronoa, 30, charged with involuntary manslaughter for the death of Kuina Wakahisa.’  
_

He clicked the link without hesitation.  


It pulled up an article, from the Grand Line Times no less, and at the top was a damning mugshot of the exact man Sanji had encountered that morning. There was no mistaking those fierce features, that spiky green hair.  


Zoro was staring directly into the camera with the same steely gaze he’d bored into Sanji. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he managed to look somewhat resigned, as if he was aware of his guilt and fully ready to admit it. It was a frightening look to see on the face of a murderer, one that seemed to say he had no fear of consequences, like he was prepared to accept them…  


It took the cook a moment to realize he’d been staring at that photo for a while, the shock of his discovery leaving him frozen in front of the computer screen.  


He quickly scrolled down, forcing himself to read the details of the man’s crime, fixed intently on the article, even moving closer to the screen to read.  


Suddenly, the tonal ringing of an incoming Skype call nearly had him jump from his seat in surprise.  


He swallowed and let out a breath, eyes flicking to the clock. It was nearly midnight; he hadn’t intended on staying up this late. And he could only imagine one person who’d be awake at such a late hour. The guy fell asleep at such weird times….  


The cook straightened a bit and decided to answer the call, clicking the green button beneath Ace’s fire-breathing dragon icon and fixing his hair a bit before the webcam started up and his friend’s face popped up, obscuring the news article from view.  


“Hey, man! Sup---?” the freckled man asked, just before breaking into laughter a second later.  


Sanji huffed a breath, quirking a brow at his friend and narrowing eyes.  


“The hell are you laughing at?” he grumbled. “Is there an actual purpose for this call?”  


“What? Oh, yeah, I----” Ace brought a hand to his mouth, almost as if trying to wipe away his smile. “Sorry, you just----look like you’re in a horror movie or somethin’! It’s all dark behind you, and your face is washed out! You look like a ghost!”  


Sanji rolled his eyes when Ace laughed some more, tilting his screen a bit and shifting it another direction so the lights over his counter weren’t as harsh. But it wasn’t really working, so he switched off his webcam entirely, much to Ace’s dismay.  


“Aw, c’mon, it’s fine!” he complained. “Ya don’t gotta---! Alright, alright~”  


Ace made no move to turn off his own webcam, quite content, it seemed, with having his face on display. The man leaned back in his desk chair casually, crossing arms behind his short black ponytail.  


“I just wanted to see if you were alive is all!” Ace justified. “Haven’t heard from you since last week!”  


“Well, you’ve chosen the _best_ possible time to call me,” Sanji muttered sarcastically, shoving the window with Ace’s image all the way to the side so he could view the article again. “I’ve got some crazy shit going down.”  


“Oh? Do tell~” Ace replied, leaning forward again with interest.  


“Found a kid on the street last night outside the restaurant. She’d run away from home. I let her stay the night at my place. This morning, her dad came to pick her up. _Total_ asshole, I mean _what_ the hell. I didn’t even wanna let her go back with him, but I did…” Sanji recounted, slumping miserably onto the counter now that he didn’t have to stay presentable for the camera.  


“Long story short, I did a bit of snooping on the guy, and turns out he killed someone. Looks like he just got out of prison not too long ago.”  


_“What?!_ You fuckin’ serious?!” Ace screeched, jaw gaping. “And you’re just telling me this _now?_ What the hell, Sanji!”  


He reached out to shake his laptop, as if it would somehow reach his real friend on the other end.  


“Look, it’s been a fucking weird twenty-four hours. I’m still trying to make sense of it myself, and now I find _this_ shit….” the cook replied, dragging a hand back through his hair as he absently scrolled up and down the article, eventually letting the cursor stop over Zoro’s intense photo again.  


“So the guy’s an actual murderer? How’d he do it?” Ace asked, with far too much enthusiasm for the topic.  


“I don’t know,” Sanji muttered, scanning the words on the screen. “It says _‘involuntary_ manslaughter’...... I guess he killed her with a sword or something, and pled guilty to it even though it was probably an accident. He was some sort of kendo instructor. But the idiot didn’t seem too keen on clearing his name. He----holy shit! She was his _wife!”_  


Now _that_ changed things….assuming this woman was also Tana’s mother.  


“Damn! What?! Killed his _wife?_ With a _sword?_ Who the hell is this guy?”  


“His name’s Zoro Roronoa,” Sanji said, head reeling. “Look him up. He was crazy, trust me. He wasn’t even relieved to see his daughter. He basically just grabbed her and left.”  


As soon as he’d uttered Zoro’s name, there was typing on Ace’s end, the man’s eyes flicking across his own screen for a minute, no doubt doing a Google search of his own.  


“Shiiiit,” he eventually breathed. “Wonder if he ran into your brothers in prison---”  


“That’s not funny,” Sanji replied icily. Though, admittedly, he’d wondered the same himself. He didn’t want to _think_ about that though, even entertain the idea. He’d made sure they were removed from his life for a reason, so he’d never have to think about them again.  


Ace sighed, lips turning up a little apologetically.  


“Sorry. Bad joke,” he admitted.  


Sanji sighed too, taking a long, soothing drag from his cigarette to calm himself down.  


“It’s okay,” he eventually muttered. “I just….don’t know what to do. I can’t stop thinking about the girl. I sent her right back to a shitty-ass situation. Just like I didn’t _want_ to do. And now…. I mean...imagine _knowing_ that. That your dad killed your mom. That’s _insane.”_  


He’d given Tana his number, but now he was starting to think that wasn’t enough. With the baggage this kid was no doubt dealing with, how the fuck could he hope to make _anything_ better for her?  


“Well, you did what you could,” Ace assured, shrugging. “I mean, _we_ both had shitty dads and we turned out alright~”  


“Ugh,” Sanji uttered, for lack of anything better to say, knocking his forehead into the counter tiredly.  


Normally, Ace’s positivity was a welcome thing. Ace had worked wonders for him when Pudding had left. He was pretty sure Ace was the main reason he’d been able to make it through that time in one piece. His patience, the countless late night calls, the company and gentle support when Sanji felt alone and insecure. And most of all, the reassurance that he was important to people---that love really _did_ still exist in his life. Real love.  


And yet, despite all that he _knew_ Ace could do for him, for some reason, he wasn’t doing much to comfort the blond in this situation.  


There was silence for a minute, Ace seeming to sense his friend’s distress. He propped his chin on a hand and smiled slightly.  


“You okay over there, man? Want me to come over and hug it better?” he crooned, voice overly sweet.  


_“No,”_ Sanji said, still with his head planted on the countertop, gaze fixed at his bare feet perched on the bar of his stool.  


“Here, I’ll tell you what,” Ace’s voice floated down to him again. “I’ll tell you something inspiring that I learned when _I_ was in prison~”  


“They held you at the police station for a night, Ace. That’s hardly _prison_ \---”  


“Details, details~ _Anyway._ If I learned anything from my days as an infamous arsonist---”  


He swiftly ignored Sanji’s loud scoff. Luckily, he couldn’t see the look the blond shot at the screen either.  


“---it was this. Live your life with no regrets. If you’d really thought she was in danger, you wouldn’t have let her go with him. So don’t regret it~ Trust yourself~”  


Sanji blinked at his friend for a minute, at the sometimes infuriatingly bright grin the man wore that somehow ran in his family….even though Ace and his brothers were all adopted….  


“You wanna write that in my yearbook?” Sanji eventually asked, unimpressed.  


“Sure!” the freckled man chirped in reply. “Right next to the photo of you trying to make out with Nami! ‘Member that? Wasn’t that when you snuck into the girls’ locker room?”  


“Shut up!” Sanji instantly shot back, though he couldn’t stop a grin from spreading over his face. “That was in high school! I’m not that stupid and perverted anymore! And _you’d_ already graduated! How the hell do _you_ remember that?!”  


“Saw Luffy’s yearbook~ Cut it out. Framed it. Put it on the fridge~”  


“You are so full of it, Ace,” the cook replied, shaking his head, but he chuckled nonetheless, somehow feeling a little better despite everything.  


A glance to the clock, however, had him nearly groaning. It was _far_ later than he wanted, and after going to bed late the previous night, he was feeling the fatigue.  


“Look, I gotta sleep,” he muttered eventually, stubbing out his cigarette in his ashtray. “Or try to at least…”  


“Okaaaay,” Ace sighed, feigning dramatic disappointment. “Go dream about criminals and shit~”  


“Don’t say that, I just might…” Sanji mumbled, stretching arms over his head and stifling a yawn. “He knows where I live. He might come after me.”  


There were a few beats of silence, Ace studying his screen and tilting his head curiously.  


“Might not be so bad,” he said after a few moments. “Gotta say, the guy’s pretty hot---”  


“Okay, good _night,_ Ace!”  


And Sanji promptly hung up on his friend before _that_ got any more ridiculous. It was pretty damn easy to forget Ace was even _capable_ of serious conversation sometimes…  


This, of course, left him alone with the mugshot of Zoro glaring out at him.  


How the fuck had any of this happened? He had no idea if what Zoro did was really accidental. It had to have been, right? He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to kill their _wife._ How _could_ anyone do such a thing? Even after everything Pudding had done to him, he’d _never_ felt the urge to harm her.  


In fact, to this day, in his lowest moments, he still blamed himself….  


Was that what Zoro had done? Blamed himself? Punished himself?  


Or was he really a cold-blooded killer who’d miraculously gotten off easy…  


Sanji had no fucking idea, but it only served to, first, have him worry more about Tana, and second, make his own head throb with memories and thoughts he _didn’t_ want to delve back into.  


He closed the tab with the article, knowing it wasn’t something he wanted to see when he opened his laptop the next morning. He shut the device, made sure its charger was plugged in and stood, eager to collapse into bed, even if it meant his mind would swirl for another hour before he actually fell asleep.  


As he turned off the lights and headed into his bedroom, he wondered if maybe Ace’s advice might have some merit after all.  


* * *

Tana and Zoro sat across from each other at the small table, the warm morning light casting shadows through the window of the leaves on the tall tree outside their building.  


It was something Tana liked to watch, most of the time, something she actually liked about this apartment.  


She wasn’t sure why her father bothered sitting there with her. They’d barely spoken since she’d returned home, only interacting briefly the previous evening when she’d emerged from her room to get something to eat.  


She hadn’t wanted to go to school yesterday, but now she couldn’t wait to get back.  


They hadn’t spoken about the incident, about her running away, about the blond cook who’d been so kind to her, whom she’d liked talking to so much. Other than his teasing, he hadn’t treated her like a dumb kid, hadn’t acted like she needed shielding or coddling. As much as she loved her grandfather, that wasn’t so with him, particularly since her mom had died.  


He’d closed himself off, widened the gap between them. For she _knew_ there were things he wasn’t telling her, especially during their phone call yesterday. It was frustrating, disheartening...and it left her feeling like her whole family had abandoned her in one way or another.

Even her dad’s uncle, while he’d always been aloof, hadn’t been in contact in any way since her mother’s death, he who’d always been a quiet source of strength for her dad. He’d taken him in, after all, taught him everything he knew…  


And now her father wouldn’t even _touch_ a sword...  


That was part of why she’d taken to Sanji, she thought. He hadn’t been afraid to talk to her straight. He hadn’t talked down to her and hadn’t asked questions where they weren’t necessary.  


He’d reminded her of how her dad used to be….of how her mother had been.  


She missed that. _So_ much. _Needed_ that. And her dad had been so eager to take her away from it.  


“How am I getting to school?” she asked abruptly, stabbing into her cereal with her spoon. It was a necessary question, unfortunately, breaking the silence that stretched over them as her dad scrolled intently through his phone with his head down.  


She saw his thumb stop its sliding, and he slowly raised eyes to her for a second before letting his gaze fall back down to his phone.  


“I’ll walk you to the bus,” he mumbled.  


That wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.  


“Can’t Ms. Nico just take me? Oliver already said it’s fine. She wants to come over anyway since you didn’t call her last night.”  


He flinched, shoulders tensing.  


“And why is she telling _Oliver_ those things,” he grumbled, head still down.  


So it was true then. Ms. Nico and her dad had known each other her entire life, Oliver’s dad too. And they’d become good friends with her mom by extension.  


They’d always been there, always been close, and they’d been a great support to her during the year after her mother’s death, without her dad… And they’d been, perhaps, the sole people who could get through to her father, who could talk him out of doing stupid things.  


They’d always been able to in the past….but now it was like their influence couldn’t affect her dad at all anymore.  


“Maybe ‘cause she actually tells her kids stuff…” Tana muttered impulsively, bitterness in her voice.  


The sound of his phone clattering out of his grasp startled her, wrenching her gaze from her now soggy cereal.  


Her dad was silent, but she heard the shaky breath he took, saw the way his hand strangely trembled as he reached for the device. He hadn’t meant to drop it, she realized.  


Her eyes drifted to his face, the tension in his brow, his lips pulling down into a frown. There was tumult there; she knew that look. About what, she didn’t know, but something she’d said had triggered it.  


Good. If she could get _something_ through his thick head, then that was better than nothing.  


_“Fine. Call Robin….”_ he said after a minute, his voice quiet and strained.  


She did, eventually taking her half-eaten bowl of cereal to the sink and leaving her dad at the table, still with that troubled expression.  


* * *

Half an hour later, much earlier than expected, the apartment’s buzzer went off, indicating they had a guest.  


With her dad having retreated to the couch where he sat blankly watching the TV, Tana herself scurried from the bathroom, toothbrush still in her mouth, to answer it.  


A text from Oliver that simply read, _‘Yo, we’re here,’_ arrived on her way to the door, leaving her certain of the caller’s identity when she pressed the intercom button.  


“I’ll be right out,” she said, mouth full of toothpaste, and was about to rush off to finish getting ready, when the gentle voice of Oliver’s mother came through.  


_“We’re a bit early, Tana. Do you mind if we come up~?”_ the woman asked, and Tana could practically hear the knowing smile that no doubt accompanied her voice.  


She looked behind her, to her dad, who still sat on the couch, the back of his head facing her and showing no signs of acknowledgment either way.  


“Okay. I’ll unlock the door,” she said, then pressed the button so they could enter the building, and unlocked the apartment door afterward.  


Once she heard Ms. Nico thank her from the other end, she hurried to the bathroom to finally finish brushing her teeth before she frothed all over the floor.  


She’d just managed to throw all her books into her backpack, grab her jacket, and dart back to the kitchen by the time there was a soft knock at the door, the knob turning a second later.  


In stepped a tall, statuesque woman with a black pantsuit and high heels, shiny dark hair tied neatly in a long, stylish ponytail. A few strands hung loosely to frame her face, and although her eyes were an icy blue and her features a little stern, the warm smile she flashed at Tana as soon as she entered was enough to melt that exterior instantly.  


“Good morning, Tana~” she greeted, just before two boys entered the apartment behind her, Oliver first, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hooded jean jacket-sweatshirt hybrid covered in patches of his own addition.  


He grinned at his friend upon entering, flicking his messy blue mop of hair out of his eyes, a habit he’d developed since it had grown longer.  


Following behind him was a younger-looking boy with much darker hair, nearly as black as his mother’s, but with a luminous blue-ish sheen when the light hit it. This boy wore a unique pair of angular glasses, with two upside-down obtuse triangles for lenses.  


“Good morning, Ms. Nico,” Tana answered politely, moving to shut the door behind them.  


As she did, the younger boy whispered to her, _“Did you really run away?”_  


She cracked a mischievous smirk and nodded.  


_“Yeah,”_ she whispered back.  


“I hope we’re not intruding, Zoro~” Robin called to Tana’s dad, who’d since turned to glance over at them, eventually getting to his feet slowly and sauntering into the kitchen, hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped, not unlike a kid awaiting a scolding.  


“S’fine,” he mumbled, and Robin smiled kindly.  


“Oliver, Thomas, say hello,” she urged her sons, nudging each of them forward a bit, even though Thomas seemed a little hesitant.  


Tana’s dad was pretty intimidating, especially as of late.  


The two boys shot a look at each other before answering in reluctant unison, “Good morning, Mr. Roronoa,” as if they’d rehearsed it.  


Zoro nodded in reply, reaching up to rub a hand at the back of his head anxiously.  


“Thanks for comin’ to get her,” he said.  


“It’s not a problem. I’ll be on my way to work afterwards as is,” Robin assured.  


Then, because Oliver was fidgeting beneath the hand she’d left on his shoulder, he and Tana shooting glances at each other, she chuckled.  


“Alright, you’re excused,” she said to him, and he instantly beamed, him and Tana hurrying to her room, with Thomas trailing behind.  


The younger boy stopped before rounding the corner though, and turned back to look at his mother.  


“Mom, we’ve got ten minutes or we’ll be late,” he warned quietly, and Robin nodded.  


“I’m aware,” she assured, and the boy nodded with a wary glance at the stove clock before leaving the room to join the other two.  


A small smile remained on Robin’s face until she heard the bedroom door shut down the hall.  


As soon as it did, that smile faded from her face, and she crossed the room to Zoro, still standing sheepishly a few paces away.  


Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Zoro wouldn’t even meet her eye, gaze firmly fixed on the floor between them.  


“You didn’t call us last night,” Robin eventually said, her voice calm and quiet. But that was a dangerous tone, Zoro knew. After all, the older woman rarely showed anger with an outburst of any kind.  


“I know,” he muttered. “Sorry. I forgot.”  


It was a bullshit excuse, and both of them knew it.  


Robin crossed arms over her chest, fixed him with a cold glare.  


“Zoro, I won’t let you shut us out too. Do you understand me?”  


He winced slightly, reacting to her scolding tone.  


“Yes,” he answered eventually, but it didn’t seem sincere, so she pressed him.  


_“Do_ you?”  


This time, he didn’t reply, just let out a breath, his jaw clenching uncomfortably in the way it did when he tried to keep his own emotion hidden.  


That was difficult to do in front of Robin, however, who was one of the few people who knew him extremely well.  


She sighed too, and he heard her voice soften a bit when she spoke again.  


“Zoro, look at me,” she murmured, and she waited the long moment until he slowly lifted his gaze, wrought with uncertainty, to her.  


Robin uncrossed her arms and reached out to touch his wrist gently.  


“You have to tell her the truth,” she said, and it sparked an immediate reaction in the man.  


His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed, a breath shuddering out of him. His gaze flicked almost frantically to the empty hallway, as if his daughter would overhear, before he met Robin’s again.  


_“No,”_ he answered emphatically, but Robin wasn’t deterred.  


“You _must,”_ she insisted, her hand now encircling Zoro’s wrist entirely. “It’s the only way for you two to get _past_ all this---”  


“By what, having her hate me even _more?_ Robin, I can’t--- _do_ that! I-If she knew---what I did---she’d---”  


“And do you think Kuina would want this?” Robin cut in, her words making him freeze entirely, pain washing over his features, mouth working for words that didn’t come for a good minute.  


Eventually, he took a deep breath, closed eyes briefly, then looked sharply at his friend.  


_“I think about this….every fucking **day** \---everything I **do** I think of what she would say,”_ he muttered fiercely, lowering his voice both to disguise its quivering and to make sure they weren’t overheard. _“I see her---in Tana, I see her, and I **know** my daughter’s anger is Kuina’s, but I will **not** risk losing what we have left.”_  


“Zoro…” Robin started, but he shook his head. He had to finish.  


_“I tell her what really happened, and she will never forgive m----she **won’t,** Robin, **listen** to me!”  
_

Desperation laced with the pain as he stopped her interrupting again because he’d _thought_ about this, dammit. He’d had more than enough time to think this through, and he didn’t think he could _bear_ to see the look on his daughter’s face. When she learned what he had done to her mother, the woman he’d loved _so_ fervently but hadn’t been able to protect from his own foolishness, his own failing.  


_“She will lose what little trust she has in me. She will see me, even more so, for what I am. Fucking weak and---and---”  
_

“And what will you do if things get worse?” Robin murmured calmly, bringing both hands up to his biceps. “You’re lucky someone helped her when she ran, but what if, next time, that doesn’t happen?”  


His eyes closed again, the man dropping his head almost in shame.  


Robin rubbed thumbs gently on his arms, looking to comfort her younger friend with a soothing touch.  


He had no answer to that. It was something he’d feared happening, but he didn’t know how to stop. He was certain, certain he did not want his daughter to know he was the one who’d taken her mother from her. This was all his fault, and he fully accepted that himself, but how could he hope for his daughter to understand, especially now?  


“I-I just….” he stammered, finally meeting Robin’s eye again. “I know she doesn’t deserve this. But I can’t do it, Robin. I need….”  


He trailed off.  


What did he need? Time? _More_ time?  


No.  


He needed Kuina.  


Robin lifted a hand, brushed affectionately at the strands of hair that flopped stubbornly over his forehead, just as she had the day of his wedding, when he and Kuina had finally decided, on a whim, to go to the courthouse.  


Kuina had pinned him to the floor after sparring, straddling his hips, his own shinai crossed over his throat as she grinned down at him triumphantly and insisted he had to marry her now that he’d lost yet again.  


They’d dragged Franky and Robin along as witnesses, Tana, just turned six, Oliver, and Thomas all in tow, both Zoro and Kuina still in their workout clothes.  


Franky had found the whole thing hilarious….up until the point he’d gotten emotional, and then there was no turning back. Robin had forced Zoro to at least get his hair in order before he faced his soon-to-be wife, even if Kuina had looked just as disheveled, short hair thrown half-up messily, holding the car keys in her mouth for lack of pockets as she signed the marriage papers.  


It was how he loved her though. He didn’t _want_ anything fancy. He just wanted _her,_ and that was exactly what he got.  


He’d been twenty-five, she twenty-six. Neither of them had known what the hell they were doing, and now, six years later, he felt all the more clueless.  


Except now, he was also alone.  


Or so it felt, even with Robin here working to comfort him, talk him through this with the advice he _knew_ he should take to heart, _knew_ he should respect.  


“You can do this, Zoro,” she was murmuring. “I’ve never known you to be weak. I know you can do this.”  


He sighed heavily, wishing he could believe her.  


Just then, Tana’s bedroom door clicked open, and the two of them were forced to turn to see Thomas poking his head out.  


“Mom, two minutes,” the boy warned, sounding a little anxious about this fact, so Robin lowered hands to her sides again and took a step back from Zoro.  


“Alright, gather your brother and Tana,” she replied, and Thomas quickly ducked back into the room before emerging a second later, the other two meandering after him.  


Zoro swallowed, huffed out a breath and tried to compose himself, running a hand down over his mouth.  


Before the kids could reach them, he murmured to Robin again.  


“I work tonight….can you take Tana after school?” he asked quietly. “I don’t….want her home alone…”  


Robin glanced back at him, and eventually replied, “Alright. But I can’t pick them up at school. I have a meeting at the museum. Can you escort them at least? Franky will be at the shipyard.”  


Zoro looked a little uncomfortable with this fact, but he nodded and said, “Yeah. I’ll meet ‘em on my way to work…”  


“Thank you.”  


She turned back to the kids then and smiled as she made for the door.  


Thomas rushed out first, still fretting about being late, followed by Oliver, who was in the middle of explaining something exciting that Tana had apparently missed during her absence from school the previous day.  


Before she slipped out after her friend, Tana paused, glancing back at her dad. She hesitated for a moment, but then lowered her head again and left without saying a word, Robin’s hand brushing over her back briefly as she exited.  


The woman sighed, flicked one last knowing look at Zoro over her shoulder.  


“Think about what I said…” she implored, watching him until he nodded reluctantly.  


Then she removed her car keys from her pants pocket and headed out after the other three, leaving Zoro alone once again.  


He stood there for a long minute after they left.  


His eyes closed, thumb brushing instinctively over his bare ring finger as it often did.  


* * *

Thanks to the excitement of the last few days, and the melancholy of sitting at home alone, it had been easy to forget why school _wasn’t_ Tana’s favorite place in the world.  


She didn’t find classes _difficult._ In fact, she was a good student, rather dedicated, but she didn’t fit in.  


That couldn’t be denied, especially not after her mother had passed, and her dad had landed in prison.  


All sorts of nasty rumors had floated around about her mother’s death, but she refused to believe any of them. _She_ knew the truth, as her grandfather had told her, and that was all that mattered. Her mom had fallen down the stairs at her grandpa’s dojo, on the way to fetch a sharpening block for her sword. And her dad had been sentenced for a time he’d beaten a guy up in the street after a competition. He’d been insulting her and her mom, and her dad went apeshit on him. Some asshole named Hody...  


She _knew_ that happened; she remembered her mom dragging her away from it all before she could get caught up in it.  


The kids could say whatever the hell they wanted, but she wouldn’t believe it. Her parents had been good, strong people before all this, and she would not allow anyone’s hateful comments to ruin their old reputation.  


Thankfully, however, most kids left her alone now, which was lonely, but honestly preferable. She didn’t like getting bullied, for the obvious reasons, of course, but also because she feared she might lash out. She knew she could physically kick the ass of any punk kid in the school. And she knew she could land herself in a lot of trouble if she did. She _did_ have a fear of consequences, admittedly. She’d seen what it did to her dad, after all…  


The day passed without incident, a little hectic as she was bombarded with make-up assignments, but no one questioned why she’d been absent, for which she was glad.  


And she was even happier to be reunited with her friend at the end of the day, waiting for Oliver near the pick-up area as kids milled out of the building to catch the bus….or meet their parents.  


Oh, right. Her dad was supposed to meet them. As if they couldn’t walk to Oliver’s house by themselves. It would take thirty minutes tops, and they could defend themselves on the rare chance anything bad happened. Or she could defend _both_ of them. And Thomas would take the school bus home from his elementary school. They didn’t need her dad to accompany them at all.  


“What’s wrong?” a voice beside her suddenly asked, and she turned to see Oliver had snuck up next to her, grinning at the most likely sour expression on her face.  


“Nothing, just don’t want my dad to come,” she mumbled, leaning against the column she’d chosen to stand beside.  


He chuckled, shifting his backpack up a little and surveying the sidewalk ahead of them.  


“Sorry. Think my mom suggested it to him,” he replied. “Wanna bet how long it’ll take him to get here?”  


“Too long,” Tana muttered, glancing over as her friend rummaged in the pocket of his backpack for his wallet.  


“Hmm...I’ve got five bucks,” he noted, fingers prying open the otherwise empty wallet. “Five bucks says an hour?”  


“I’m not waiting an hour!” Tana protested, though she couldn’t help but crack a smile.  


“Yeah, you’re right,” Oliver replied with a shrug, putting the money back in his bag. “I need that for the vending machine anyway~”  


Tana made a show of rolling her eyes, averting her gaze back to the surrounding crowds, looking for any sign of her father’s green beacon of hair.  


“Your teeth are gonna rot out of your head one day from all that soda,” she teased, glancing at her phone, which was void of any text from her dad.  


Oliver’s eyes widened though, and he rapped knuckles against her arm.  


“Oh, hey, that reminds me! Know what Mr. Den said in Shop today? He said that sharks can regenerate their teeth less than a day after they lose them!”  


Tana chuckled, quirking a brow at her friend.  


“Why was he telling you that in _Shop?”_  


“My CO2 car’s a shark. I wanted it to be anatomically correct, so I asked him about the teeth~”  


She snorted.  


“Weird…”  


A minute passed, still with no sign of Tana’s dad. Most of the kids had begun to disappear, the crowds thinning as time wore on. Another glance to her phone told Tana her father was already nearly fifteen minutes late, most likely hopelessly lost and wandering as usual.  


He could’ve taken a taxi, but if he had, he would surely have been there by now….  


“What do you think?” Oliver murmured beside her. “Should we start walkin’?”  


That was when a thought struck her. It was one that would most likely get her into huge trouble, but one she was absolutely willing to carry out, seeing as how it would both solve their current dilemma and teach her dad a bit of a lesson….after infuriating him, but that was beside the point.  


“Nah, hold on. I have an idea,” Tana said, and began tapping through her phone to her contacts.  


* * *

Three in the afternoon was usually a bit of a lull in Sanji’s day. Lunch was finished; the dinner preparations had yet to begin. As the sous chef, he could afford to take a bit of a break, for inventory, errands, whatever the day deemed necessary.  


That day saw him doing a bit of work at the host’s desk near the entrance, figuring out where to place a few of their larger party reservations for later that evening.  


Fingers tapped away on the touch-screen of the computer, reconfiguring the virtual seating map of the restaurant to try and figure out the best way to arrange the tables. Zeff had been pissed as all hell he’d bought this program, insisting they could do things the old-fashioned way, but it made Sanji’s life ten times easier, so the old man could suck it.  


He’d _just_ figured out a good arrangement when his phone buzzed in his pocket unexpectedly, his heart skipping a beat.  


He’d been able to distract himself today, for a few hours at a time, from thinking about the crazy things he’d uncovered during his late night internet search, but the phone call was enough to bring his thoughts right back there.  


The cook nearly ripped his pocket trying to get his phone out, pulse racing even more when he saw the call was from a number he didn’t recognize.  


It wasn’t _necessarily_ the girl, but considering he didn’t have her number registered, he couldn’t rule that out.  


So he picked up, trying his best to sound calm when he answered.  


“Hello?”  


_“Hey. Remember me?”  
_

His jaw couldn’t help but drop open when none other than Tana’s snarky voice came through.  


“I---Tana? Is that you?”  


_“Who else? Unless you give your number out to kids all the time, Curly,”_ she replied, his eye twitching in response. He’d forgotten the mouth this kid had.  


He apparently didn’t answer quickly enough for Tana’s liking because she spoke again a few seconds later.  


_“Look. You said I could call if I needed help, right?”_ she said, and despite his brief annoyance, concern leaped right back into his throat.  


“Yeah, is....is everything okay? Are _you_ okay?” he asked, already making his way out from behind the desk in case he had to bolt somewhere fast.  


_“I’m fine,”_ she assured, the cook letting out a heavy breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. _“I kind of need a ride though. Do you have a car?”_  


His brow furrowed, possibilities already flowing through his mind. She’d run away again. Her dad had driven her out. She’d been threatened and her father was out to kill her.  


“I do,” he said. Although, living in the city, he didn’t use it that often. But he’d gladly waste a bit of gas now if he could help her out. “Where are you?”  


_“Awesome,”_ she replied, and he thought he heard another voice in the background. _“I’m at my school. East Blue Junior High. I just need you to take me to my friend’s house.”_  


He didn’t ask questions, even though he had many. He merely sprinted his way back to the kitchen so he could tell someone where he’d gone.  


“Okay. That’s over by Reverse Station, right?” he checked, sticking his phone under his ear and fumbling in his back pocket for his keys.  


_“Yeah,”_ Tana replied. _“What’s your car look like?”_  


“Black Mazda. Where should I pull up? In front?---Hang on.”  


He pulled the phone away for a second so he could yell to those in the kitchen as he passed through that he was going out.  


A few waves and grunts of acknowledgment from his co-workers, who otherwise continued their duties.  


“Okay,” he said as soon as he was outside. “So where?”  


_“Just in front, yeah. There’s an area you can pull in,”_ the girl instructed.  


“Okay,” Sanji replied, turning out of the alley and jogging lightly towards the end of the pier where his boss’ car garage sat between an ice cream shop and a parking lot for the beach, roughly a city block’s length away. “I won’t be long. Do you need me to stay on the phone?”  


After all, he had no idea what was going on where she was. She’d said she was okay, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.  


But she simply answered, _“Nah. I’ll just see you when you get here.”_  


He huffed out a breath, hoping it was really fine.  


“Alright. If I don’t see you, I’ll text you, okay?”  


_“Okay. See ya,”_ she replied, not sounding particularly concerned.  


“Bye,” he said and reluctantly ended the call before picking up speed, shoes thudding dully on the wooden planks of the boardwalk.  


He made a mental note to properly register her number into his phone later, but for now, he would focus on getting there.  


* * *

He did so rather quickly, and perhaps with a few dangerous traffic maneuvers, but that didn’t matter now as he pulled into the roundabout in front of the school, a rather impressive building painted blue with an artistically wavy overhang adorning the entrance, held up by spiral columns.  


It would have been interesting had he not been so focused on scanning the premises for Tana.  


His search wasn’t long, however, because there were only two kids out in front, and one of them was Tana herself.  


He pulled the car up to the curb and stopped, rolling down his window so he could peer out, cigarette between teeth.  


The girl was already coming up to the car though, flanked by the second kid, a taller boy with some rather shockingly blue hair.  


“Hey,” she said, seeming totally relaxed, and the cook found himself looking up and down the sidewalk, as if the reason she’d called him should be lurking somewhere nearby.  


“Mind if my friend comes too?” she was asking, and, a little baffled, he had to nod and say, “Sure.”  


“Thanks!” the friend chirped. Then the two clambered into his car, shut the door, and suddenly he had two adolescent kids sitting quite happily in the back seat.  


“Uhhh…” Sanji said, shaking his head and setting the car in ‘Drive’, slowly pulling away from the curb. “So, why did---I mean, you’re not in trouble or some shit, are you?”  


He heard the blue-haired kid snicker, caught him and Tana sharing a grin in the rearview mirror before the girl replied.  


“Nah. My dad was supposed to walk us to Oliver’s, but we got tired of waiting. And it’s annoyingly far. So I figured you could take us---”  


_“What?!”_ Sanji screeched, slamming on the brakes a little too hard when he reached the stop sign. “You called me to be your _chauffeur?”_  


“You said to call if I needed you!” she protested.  


“In an _emergency,_ I meant! Not just whenever you damn feel like it!”  


Again, he heard the boy---Oliver, he assumed---crack up in the back.  


“And what the hell are _you_ laughing at?” he shot back, nearly biting through his cigarette.  


“Nothin’!” Oliver assured, waving a hand. “This whole thing is just super cool is all.”  


“Right---very cool---drag me out of work to drive a bunch of little kids around town,” the cook grumbled, already irritated with himself for the bout of worry he’d experienced on the way here. “Look, you’d better text your dad so he doesn’t think I kidnapped you again!”  


“Okay, okay,” Tana snickered, pulling out her phone to do just that.  


The blond looked both ways, muttering a few choice words to himself under his breath before turning right and heading off down the street.  


“You gonna tell me where the hell I’m going or do I have to guess?”  


* * *

Had he gotten lost finding Tana’s school? No. Had he underestimated the amount of time it would take to get there? Yes.  


_This_ and only this was what had made Zoro so late to meet his daughter.  


But it had been enough to make him nervous. Tana hadn’t texted him, but he knew he was late, and part of him feared Tana would indeed make a run for it again. That he’d blown yet another chance at having things return to normal.  


He’d thought about Robin’s words. All day he’d thought about them, and while he still didn’t feel ready to tell Tana everything, he knew he had to do something to mend what they had. He just wasn’t sure what.  


He’d already banned her from the competition that weekend. And now he was hopelessly late to pick her up.  


Fuck if he knew how to fix _any_ of this…  


Still, by some miracle, he’d just rounded a corner that he _thought_ looked rather familiar, only to discover he was right. He could see the looming form of the school building down the street, and he blew out a breath, lengthening his strides now that the goal was in sight, shifting his work bag on his shoulder.  


He might be late to work now too, surely piss off Crocodile, but he couldn’t care less about that.  


Sure enough, he could barely see, in the pick-up area, two figures standing outside, one whose hair was visible a mile away. It was Tana and Oliver, most definitely.  


A bit of relief ran through him and maybe a bit of hope as well.  


They’d waited. He was fucking late as hell, but they were still there, and for some reason, it felt like a step in the right direction. A tiny step, but a step nonetheless.  


The two would probably give him an earful, but he supposed he deserved it.  


But then something confusing happened.  


He’d not walked a pace or two more before he noticed an unfamiliar black car pulling up to the curb in front of them, both of the kids walking up to the door.  


His eyes narrowed in confusion, but he was still too far away to see who they were talking to….to see whose car they were now _getting into,_ and okay, what the _fuck?!_  


He broke into an all-out _sprint_ when that same car started to pull away, but dammit, he was too far from them. Zoro ran as fast as he fucking could, which was fucking _fast,_ but not fast enough, and before long, the mysterious car had sped off, nearly out of sight.  


Still, he ran though, because he had no fucking clue whose car that was, if the kids had just been coaxed in by someone terrible….if that was the last time he’d ever see his daughter….  


His phone sounded in his pocket, reminding Zoro that he could still _call_ his daughter, so he ripped out the device, ready to furiously dial her number, only to see that the noise had been a notification of a text from Tana herself.  


Breathing heavily, he practically punched the screen with his thumb to open it, heart pounding and fucking _hoping_ it didn’t say something like, _‘Help’,_ because it would probably cause him to panic entirely.  


But his racing footsteps actually slowed when his eyes flicked over the text that read, _‘U took too long. sanji’s taking us to oliver’s.’_  


_“Sanji….?”_ he actually panted out loud, brow furrowing for a split second until he remembered.  


Sanji. The guy. The fucking guy who’d let her stay with him, and something about this did not sit right with Zoro.  


Why would _Sanji_ come? How had he known where they were? Did he have Tana’s number? Did Tana have his?  


He didn’t know what the fuck this was all about, but the thought of his kid riding in the back of a strange guy’s car, even the car of the man who’d taken her in that night…..he didn’t like it. And he felt a surge of anger and _protectiveness_ come over him as he lifted his head, glaring at the disappearing car that was but a speck in the distance now.  


It was probably irrational, he knew. And he also knew _he’d_ let things go downhill between him and his daughter.  


But she was all he had left. And to think he’d failed so miserably that she couldn’t--- _wouldn’t_ \---rely on him…. That she’d choose a complete stranger over him…  


It was too painful.  


Zoro didn’t care if this Sanji hadn’t done anything. He was going to find the guy and make sure he didn’t fucking come near his daughter again.


	4. Fixation

“Take a left up here, and then a right at the next light. Then it’s another block before---”

“Alright! Alright, alright, slow down! One step at a time!” Sanji huffed at Oliver, pulling into the turn lane and flicking on his blinker. “Just direct me all the way to Raftel, why don’t you…”

“Isn’t that place, like, super hard to get to?” Tana asked innocently, prompting Sanji to shoot a dry look back at her over his shoulder. 

_“Exactly,”_ he replied irritably. Honestly, for such a snarky kid, shouldn’t she pick up on sarcasm?

“Got any music?” Oliver piped up again, poking at the empty auxiliary jack in between the front seats. 

“What about soda?” Tana added, though there was a mischievous smirk on her face. She knew what she was doing now.  


“What does this look like, a damn limo?!” the cook screeched, creeping forward in the lane ever so slightly until the light turned green and he made the turn. “Unless you’re _really_ in trouble, this is a one time thing, got it? I can’t just pick you up whenever you want a ride to the mall!”  


“We can give you gas money!” Tana tried, undeterred. “Oliver’s got five bucks!”  


“I told you I’m savin’ that!” he complained, and the two started lightly bickering to the point Sanji rolled his eyes.  


He’d spent the last few days so worried about this kid, and it seemed she was just fine.  


But then again, her dad wasn’t around, and her personality had done a complete one-eighty as soon as he’d shown up.  


This prompted him to ask, waiting until the two kids quieted down to interrupt.  


“Hey. So what happened with your dad?” he asked, glancing behind him to switch lanes. “He didn’t ground you forever or anything?”  


This seemed to hit a sour note with Tana, who frowned and glanced at her phone, which was still absent of texts. No reply from her dad. Not that she was surprised.  


Oliver glanced over at her with a sympathetic look, and she replied with a silent shrug.  


“No. He didn’t do anything. We didn’t even talk after he got me.”  


“You didn’t even _talk?”_ Sanji asked, surprised, peeking over his shoulder when he could.  


“No,” she said. “We never do. He was mad, but he just shuts down. He always does. I just went in my room.”  


The cook scoffed a little, not at her response, but with disbelief. He supposed silence was better than him _hurting_ her or punishing her badly, but it still wasn’t good.  


“So why did you run away in the first place?” he asked, because he finally felt like he could, now that they were a few days past the incident.  


“Because,” she grumbled. “He said I couldn’t compete in the tournament this weekend…”  


Sanji’s brow furrowed, heart leaping into his throat briefly.  


Kendo….  


Knowing what he now knew about Tana’s family, the whole thing sure had a different weight. Could he understand why Zoro wouldn’t want her to compete? Maybe….but that still didn’t mean he sympathized with the man in _any_ way.  


The cook slapped at Oliver’s hand when the boy leaned all the way forward to try and mess with the radio controls, pulling him from his thoughts.  


“Tournament? Like a kendo tournament?” Sanji asked casually, turning on the radio himself, and shooting the boy an irritated look in response to the subliminal whisper of, _“103.2,”_ Oliver sent from the backseat. Still, he obliged, and tuned to that station, the familiar enthusiastic announcement of, _“You’re listening to Sunny Radio,”_ drifting out from the speakers, in rather stark contrast to the mood of the car.  


“Yeah. My grandpa won’t let me go either now,” Tana sulked, leaning her head against the window. “So I dunno what I’m gonna do.”  


“Why can’t you compete? I thought you were gonna become the world’s greatest swordsman….woman….or something?” Sanji recalled, slowing the car to a halt in the line-up at the next light in preparation to make another turn. He wondered if he was pushing it now. He really knew too much, didn’t he...  


“I should be,” Tana replied. “But I dunno, no one thinks I’m strong enough anymore…”  


What did that mean….? Sanji felt his nosy side wanting to press even further. He wanted to know exactly what had happened, how Tana felt about it...whether her dad was actually as _dangerous_ as he seemed. But he forced himself to hold back, told himself that, as curious as he was, it was none of his business…..right?  


Or was it too soon to think it was _becoming_ his business now….?  


“Hey, stay in this lane,” Oliver advised, once again bringing Sanji back to the moment. “It’s another right up here.” It was like the kid _knew_ exactly when Sanji was doing some deep pondering.  


He did as told, remaining silent, even as Oliver began speaking quietly to Tana again.  


“You know you’re strong enough,” he murmured gently to his friend. “It’s just painful for them so they stop you.”  


“That’s _so_ stupid,” she muttered in reply. “My _mom_ would think it’s stupid….”  


“I know…” Oliver replied, and the two fell quiet.  


It was the first Sanji heard mention of Tana’s mother out loud, and it sent a pang straight through his chest, almost as if they were speaking of his own mother, whom he’d also lost far too young.  


He’d loved her, and he _knew_ she would find a lot of what had happened in his life to be stupid too….  


Sanji felt the urge to reach out somehow, to tell the girl they had a lot more in common than he’d initially thought. But he, again, didn’t want to overstep, so he kept his mouth shut.  


It was weird really….that the first person he felt he could relate to in….well, maybe ever, was a twelve-year-old girl…  


Silence befell all three of them as they drove, to the point that Sanji _needed_ directions.  


“Hey,” he said quietly. “Where am I going? Need my kid-GPS here.”  


This at least elicited a snicker from Oliver, breaking the solemn atmosphere somewhat.  


“Continue straight,” he said, voice monotone, mimicking a GPS, enough to make Tana laugh.  


“You sound like a robot,” she muttered, and it was enough of a reaction that he continued.  


“At the next intersection, turn left. Your destination will be on your right.”  


“Thanks, Siri,” Sanji muttered, though he found it hard not to crack a smile too.  


The car cruised down the indicated street until, about halfway down the block, Oliver spoke up again.  


“It’s the black one with the bright red door,” he said in his normal voice, and when it came into view, Sanji’s jaw couldn’t help but drop.  


“Holy _shit,”_ he breathed as the car rolled up in front of a _massive_ house that looked more like a modern art museum than a residence. The whole left corner of the house was paneled in glass windows on both floors, revealing a white staircase inside that seemed to float against the wall without supports. Artwork lined that visible wall that wrapped around to living quarters that were conveniently _just_ out of sight from the road.  


What he could see of the entranceway inside, surprisingly, featured a giant black stone panel against the wall that stretched nearly to the ceiling. There was some cryptic design on its square surface….. Was it writing? He couldn’t tell.  


“Nice house,” he muttered after a second, realizing he’d been admiring rather than parking, which he did a second later, pulling into a parking spot against the sidewalk. Then, because the question popped into his mind, he asked, “You guys ever get robbed?”  


“Thanks,” Oliver replied. “My dad built it. And nah, he’s got a state-of-the-art security system set up. Anyone tries to break in, the panel above the front door opens and the house shoots a laser cannon at the intruder.”  


Sanji turned fully around in his seat to fix the kid with the most skeptical narrowing of eyes he thought he’d ever mustered.  


“He’s serious,” Tana added, unhelpfully.  


“Do I look like an idiot?” Sanji shot back, but neither kid broke the act.  


“Well, Mom usually scares anyone away before it can get to that,” Oliver said with a casual shrug. Then he scooted over closer to his door and peered out the window for traffic before opening it. “I’ll go unlock the door. Facial recognition, y’know? Thanks for the ride, Mr……”  


The boy fumbled for Sanji’s name, to the cook’s chagrin.  


“Vinsmoke,” he supplied, to which Oliver gave a noise of recognition and pointed at him.  


“Right. Curly Brow~ Anyway, later!”  


Then he hurried out of the car before Sanji could react.  


“Great friend you got there,” the cook grumbled, watching the cheeky kid open the gate in front of the house and stride towards that bright red entrance which was a little out of place compared to the grays and blacks of the rest of the house.  


“Yup,” Tana replied, and opened her door as well, sticking one foot out, ready to follow him.  


“Hey, hey, hey, no ‘thank you’ from you?” Sanji shot back, an arm stretching out involuntarily to grab her shoulder gently.  


He noticed her freeze though, oddly, noticed the way her breath caught, and for a second, he thought it was in reaction to him touching her. But when she slowly turned her head to meet his eye, the faraway look in hers spoke of something else, something he both recognized and didn’t.  


He decided to leave his hand there and raised a brow expectantly.  


“Thanks,” she eventually replied, shaking her head a little and seeming to snap out of whatever had come over her. “I’ll call you if we need delivery tonight---”  


_“Delivery?!_ First, I’m a chauffeur, now I’m----!”  


“I’m kidding,” she assured, even flashing a grin at him. Whatever had her pause was gone now entirely.  


“Very funny,” the cook muttered, lifting his hand from her shoulder and feeling like this whole car ride had set him on an emotional roller coaster.  


“I do want your food again,” Tana added, still not getting out of the car as Oliver, strangely, completed some kind of crazy _dance_ (for lack of a better term) at the door, lifting both arms over his head and pressing them together, widening his stance, and tilting to the side, presumably for the door to recognize?  


Sanji smirked, gaze softening a little.  


“Well. Stop by the Baratie again. How ‘bout _with_ permission though?”  


“My dad would never go for it,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I’d have to sneak there.”  


“Then...I dunno, knock him out, drag his limp body along, then take him home after,” he suggested, rather seriously, to which she burst out laughing, the first full-blown laugh he’d heard out of her.  


Something about that was nice. It drew a broad smile over his lips too, and there was a beat in which Sanji forgot all his concerns about this kid. Forgot about all the tragedy that had befallen both of them.  


That moment was interrupted a second later though, when Oliver called out, “Hey, Tana! Door’s open!”  


She glanced over to see her friend with one foot in the house, waving her over triumphantly, like it was some feat that he _had_ managed to validate his entry (and with his dad’s designs, it probably was).  


Tana sighed, amusement still lingering in her expression, and she pushed up, finally climbing out of the car fully.  


“See ya, Sanji. Thanks for the ride,” she said.  


“Later, kid,” he replied, and with one last nod, she shut the door and stepped away from the car, backing up a few feet and waving before she turned to head up to the house as Sanji pulled out onto the street once more.  


Her strides slowed a little, and she turned her head to watch the car drive off, unable to shake that feeling she’d had when Sanji stopped her getting out of the car.  


It was a familiar feeling, was why, almost like déjà vu, except she _knew_ this memory. It was familiar because it _had_ happened before, many times. Her mom dropping her off at Oliver’s, at this very curb, stopping her before she could bound out too eagerly, teasingly forcing her to say a proper goodbye.  


She always had. Until one day, it was unknowingly the last time.  


And then her mom would never drop her off again.  


She watched Sanji’s car turn the corner and disappear from sight, but her gaze stayed there for another moment, part of her wondering if this wasn’t the last time Sanji would drop her off here too.  


“Come on! My brother’s bus hasn’t come yet. Let’s claim the big TV before he can turn on the History Channel,” Oliver’s voice urged, and Tana looked back at her friend in the doorway.  


She smirked, choosing to push her slightly melancholy thoughts from her mind, and quickened her pace to follow him inside.  


“You love the History Channel,” she remarked.  


“Yeah, but I love big-screen Rhythm Heaven more!” he called, already down the hall.  


Tana snickered.  


“You’re such a dork,” she called back, and shut the door behind her, completely forgetting the silence in her jeans pocket, of her phone that had yet to notify a reply from her dad.  


* * *

There was a list of things Zoro should have done upon reading that text from his daughter.  


For one, he should have replied. He should have probably texted Oliver too, maybe Robin or Franky. He should have called their house to make sure the two got there alright. He should have been a responsible parent and not punched the nearby lamppost, but he did none of those things.  


Instead, he’d gone straight to work, with a banged-up fist and pent-up anger within him that he still hadn’t shaken by the time he arrived at Rain Dinners, striding through the entrance with a dangerous scowl on his face as he headed towards the back where the staff quarters were located so he could change.  


This wasn’t a place he’d wanted to work, not a fucking huge, overly glamorous, and overly _noisy_ casino, a place teeming with people and action night or day. He didn’t have to do anything or interact with anyone per se. He was merely part of the security team for his boss, Crocodile, which usually meant a lot of standing around in an uncomfortable suit with an earpiece digging into his ear and a gun concealed under his jacket….just looking all-around intimidating.  


He could do that, sure, but it wasn’t what he wanted to be doing. Far from it.  


Yet, he’d known his options were limited after Impel Down….. Maybe he’d only been incarcerated for a year, but it was long enough that most places were extremely wary of hiring him, and with his sword license revoked, he couldn’t go back to Isshin.  


He didn’t think he could mentally, anyway. He hadn’t even been able to walk past the dojo since he’d been released….  


And so he’d ended up here, thanks, in part, to Robin, who’d somehow managed to set him up working for the first guy Zoro had met that had actually seemed _glad_ to hire a convicted criminal. But then again, Crocodile didn’t really seem like the most law-abiding citizen to begin with.  


Zoro didn’t care though. It was a job, and it actually paid pretty well, and Crocodile could do whatever the fuck he wanted so long as he left Zoro out of it.  


It was a job.  


It was a job.  


Kuina would hate it, but it was a job.  


And the manic energy of the casino actually kept his mind from sinking too deeply into its own darkness.  


_Sometimes._  


That afternoon was not one of those times, however, the ex-swordsman having to actively _tell_ himself mentally not to beat down the group of rowdy tourists having a go at a large poker table, effectively blocking his way as he crossed the vast casino floor.  


And he might have let his impatience get the better of him, had the croupier dealing the game not noticed him stalking past.  


“Oh, Zoro~ There you are~” the woman, young, with a bob of short blond hair and a rather odd pair of lemon earrings that did _not_ match her uniform at all, greeted him over the noise, taking advantage of the raucous argument her players were having to touch Zoro’s arm as he passed behind her table. “Mr. Crocodile’s looking for you.”  


“What for? I just fuckin’ got here,” he grumbled, eager to keep walking and _ignore_ the flirtatious way she leaned over the table and smirked at him, showing off her strategically low-buttoned dress shirt, fingers fiddling absently with her black tie.  


“Don’t know~” she replied, lifting an eyebrow slowly. “Sounded important~”  


Zoro merely grunted in response and kept moving, just as his co-worker’s customers grabbed her attention again with insistent demands of, “Oi, Valentine, we want another round!”  


Thank fuck he didn’t have to deal with those idiots, though he could feel her heavy gaze weighing on him even as he left.  


If the matter was so urgent, Crocodile would find him himself, so Zoro didn’t have many qualms about taking his time reaching the locker room, heading across the floor and eventually scanning his way into the private wing of the casino.  


The long hallway beyond was empty and quiet, the noise of the games instantly muffled the second the heavy maroon doors swung shut behind him.  


While Zoro wasn’t fond of Crocodile’s interior decorating sense (the great marble columns lining the hallway, flanked by numerous palm trees and golden statues of his boss’ namesake), he _could_ appreciate the man’s respect for privacy. He much preferred the shifts he was stationed outside Crocodile’s secluded office.  


A bit more meandering down red-carpeted hallways until he finally found, or rather, _reached,_ the locker room, which was really more of a lavish lounge.  


Dark mahogany locked cabinets lined one wall, but the rest of the room was complete with plush couches, a TV, even a mini bar, which Zoro made good use of during his breaks.  


When Zoro entered, he wasn’t surprised to find this room empty as well. Crocodile’s personal staff consisted of only a few, a powerful few, but few nonetheless.  


Judging by the clock on the wall, he was fifteen minutes late for his shift. Bones would probably be pissed with him for switching so late, but there’d been a lot to slow him down.  


Zoro tossed his work bag onto a nearby ottoman, unzipped it and rummaged for his uniform which he’d unceremoniously thrown in earlier. He’d forgotten to leave it for Doublefinger to take to the dry cleaners’ along with everyone else’s.  


Only slightly wrinkled, he changed into his black pants and matching dress shirt, buttoning it up over the thin blue tank top he opted not to take off. Then he clumsily did up his white tie, pulled on his white vest and white jacket overtop. They were fitted, and therefore uncomfortably tight, in his opinion, and he moved a little stiffly as a result as he kicked off his boots, threw his street clothes in his bag, and walked over to stick it all in his locker.  


He fumbled with the combination for a second, but managed to get it open, stuffing everything in and pulling out the nice dress shoes he never brought home. On they went, followed by the most delicate part of his uniform, the black revolver that he strapped onto his belt after checking it for ammo.  


He’d never had to use it, never _wanted_ to use it, because he didn’t trust himself.  


Technically, he wasn’t even supposed to _have_ it, but Crocodile had given it to him discreetly, provided he not breathe a word.  


Of course he wouldn’t, and, luckily, it seemed to be more for show than anything. He hoped it would stay that way….  


Last, he examined the battery pack of his earpiece, turned it on, and stuck the small bud in his ear.  


A hand ran through his hair self-consciously, and he tugged at his jacket a bit before deciding he was as put together as he’d probably ever be.  


Time to find Crocodile, something that was as simple as pressing a button on the small pad of the earpiece pack.  


“Alright, I’m here,” he muttered into the mic. “Valentine said you wanted me?”  


A few seconds later, a voice replied in his ear.  


_“You’re late, Roronoa. My office,”_ Crocodile said, in a low voice that might have intimidated most, but not Zoro. He did his job, and he did it well with no complaints. He had nothing to fear from the man, even if he was late.  


And that was why he strode into his boss’ office with confidence a minute later, pushing open the large black doors at the end of the hall and stepping into the excessive interior, for Crocodile’s office was certainly the most extravagant room in the building.  


Gold and more gold, palm trees and more palm trees, even a small fountain in the middle of the room, just before the sitting area. Zoro really didn’t get the whole desert oasis thing Crocodile seemed to be going for.  


His boss sat at a black marble desk at the far end of the room, his bulky fur-lined coat draped over the back of his leather chair, a thick cigar between his teeth and his dark hair practically glowing with an oily sheen under the overhead lights.  


To the side of the room, half-concealed by a golden pyramid sculpture, Zoro saw Bones, Crocodile’s other bodyguard, who’d been with his boss for far longer than Zoro had.  


Zoro could tell Bones didn’t quite trust him. And it showed when the huge, tan man turned to look at Zoro with a silent glower of mild irritation as he stepped into the room.  


“Roronoa. You finally grace our presence,” Crocodile muttered, not looking up from the papers covering his desk, a hand sporting rings on every finger signing them meticulously.  


“Sorry. Got held up on the way here,” Zoro replied, stopping in front of Crocodile’s desk and fixing his gaze firmly on the small dust particles floating about in the light streaming in from the window.  


Crocodile gave a non-verbal grunt in reply, flicked his hand dramatically to finish off his current signature, then set his pen down and finally looked up at Zoro slowly.  


“I’ll be needing you at my side today,” he said, ignoring Zoro’s response. “We have some special guests joining us this evening.”  


“Special guests?” Zoro asked, wondering just how ‘special’ they were if Crocodile thought they might pose a threat. Usually he liked to keep his meetings private.  


“Yes,” Crocodile replied, leaning back in his chair and lifting a leg to rest his ankle over his knee. “Some members of the Charlotte family. Rather prestigious guests. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”  


Zoro’s eyes narrowed.  


He’d heard that name before. A lot of big names floated around his boss, more than he could remember or cared to notice most of the time. Doflamingo…..Capone…..and yes, Charlotte. He knew next to nothing about them, aside from their status as rival real estate tycoons, but he preferred to keep himself far away from any shady dealings his boss might be undertaking (because he knew they were shady).  


Crocodile reached out to tap his cigar into an ashtray, rings clinking gently against the glass.  


“And I ask that you promptly forget they ever visited afterwards,” the man added pointedly. “Or there may be consequences to pay.”  


It was a clear threat, but it didn’t scare Zoro. In fact, he knew he’d have no problems following that order.  


After all, why would he ever feel the need to disclose information about a meeting he had no interest in?  


He nodded his compliance easily.  


* * *

Three hours later, Zoro had no idea what the fuck he was looking at, stood just inside the door of Crocodile’s office, silently presiding over the four guests that had entered the room not five minutes earlier, three women and a man, already situated on the various couches, sipping tea like they owned the place. Not many people could pull that off in a guy like Crocodile’s office.  


But the Charlotte family was no ordinary family, as he’d quickly realized. ‘Family’ was perhaps a clever moniker for ‘gang’, he thought, or it sure seemed. Especially because he had a hard time believing the svelte, doe-eyed females and rather muscular man who’d accompanied the family’s head, Linlin, were really the woman’s _children._  


After all, the woman, with a whole couch to herself, was a monster, and he now understood why she had the nickname of ‘Big Mom’. It was the only term Zoro could think of to describe her, as offensive as it probably was.  


But he’d never seen anyone like her before. She was enormous, nearly taking up the entirety of the couch by herself, with a massive, unruly bush of pink hair covering her pale back where her skimpy pink polka-dotted spaghetti strap dress didn’t. Garish blue eyeshadow and excessive red lipstick certainly weren’t helping to soften her appearance either as she sat, chomping on a candy bar with her mouth wide open, a back-up bar already in her other hand for when she finished the first.  


It was almost hard to watch the woman’s freakish….everything, and Zoro found himself glad he wasn’t the one who’d have to interact with her.  


Thankfully, her supposed children were far easier on the eyes, two of them rather attractive women, by common standards, a shy-looking one with two long, brown pigtails, and another, more assertive-looking one with jagged fringe covering one eye. The brutish man sat, shirtless, closest to Crocodile, on the end of the couch, a long ponytail pulled high at the back of his head and a fierce scar stretching over his right eye. The guy’s smile fairly resembled a hyena.  


No one had spoken, beyond Crocodile’s initial greeting, and Zoro got the feeling one didn’t speak in the presence of Linlin until spoken to.  


Even his boss seemed to be respecting this, sitting patiently behind his desk, a gold-ringed finger curled over his cigar.  


It would be another three chocolate bars (which the woman produced from fuck knew where…) before she finally broke the uncomfortable silence.  


And as soon as she had, Zoro wished she hadn’t.  


“Well, Crocodile, I’m sure you know my lovely children,” she squawked in a terribly grating excuse for a voice.  


“Cracker, Smoothie, and of course, my sweet Pudding.”  


Linlin indicated, first, the man, followed by the woman with the dramatic fringe, and finally the woman on the end who looked a little lost sitting there.  


Zoro had to assume his boss had no fucking clue who any of them were or why she’d dragged them along, but, naturally, the older man didn’t betray anything in the way of ignorance.  


Crocodile simply nodded in response and blew out a long stream of smoke.  


“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked drily.  


“I’ve got a bit of framing work that needs done,” Linlin replied, licking chocolate off her fingers in a grotesque manner. “Thought perhaps you’d take an interest as well, make things a little easier for the both of us~”  


Crocodile betrayed no surprise. Linlin was certainly the type to _enjoy_ making scapegoats of anyone who wronged her. He merely scratched absently at the thin scar that ran across his face horizontally, the cause of which no one knew.  


“Depends who you’re going after,” he replied. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for just anyone.”  


“Hody Jones ring a bell?” Linlin asked, resting a thick arm over the edge of the couch as she pulled a few pixie sticks from the bodice of her dress, tearing them open and pouring the sweet powder into her gaping maw.  


Zoro’s heart stuttered in his chest, for while that question wasn’t directed his way, it sure as hell _did_ ring a bell, even for him.  


Hody….that was the guy. The fucking bastard he’d nearly murdered in the street that night after the East Blue martial arts tournament. Nearly two years ago.  


Kuina had taken the kendo title in the adult division. She’d fucking beaten everyone, including Zoro. No one had been surprised when it came down to the two of them in the finals, and Zoro had been even less surprised when she defeated him, despite giving it his all.  


She was strong, so fucking strong and beautiful, and he loved her so much, even when she gave him shit for his loss.  


Hody had been a karate judge. Not even in their fucking league, and yet he’d had the nerve to say something about Kuina. They’d been walking to the fucking _car,_ going _home._ And the guy had turned and shot one snarky remark, had the balls to express his damn skepticism that Kuina, _Zoro’s_ Kuina, would ever amount to anything. And Zoro had snapped.  


And now Hody’s name was dropped here, something that filled Zoro with nearly forgotten rage that he forced himself to suppress, though it must’ve shown on his face. Not that anyone was paying attention to him, thankfully.  


“It does,” Crocodile was replying, a look of distaste coming over his features. His boss knew the guy too apparently. An enemy of his? “Last I heard, you two were business partners. Finally had enough of him?”  


Linlin gave a grimace of a smile, baring teeth that resembled a shark.  


“On the contrary, someone else has had enough of me. And that just won’t do, so Hody is a necessary casualty when it comes to clearing my name~” she answered, Cracker shooting a gleeful grin her way.  


“Is that so,” Crocodile answered, hardly seeming interested at all. “And you think I will be willing and able to help you.”  


“I’d appreciate it _greatly._ You know what a reasonable woman I can be. It would certainly be to your benefit~ Unless you’d like word of your little cloud seeding incident to get out to Hody’s cruise company~ What did you call it? Operation Dance Powder? If I recall, Noah didn’t sink on its own, did it~?”  


Zoro quirked a brow, unsure of what she was talking about, but he kept silent.  


The low chuckle Crocodile gave in response surprised him.  


“And am I to expect you’ve come with a plan?”  


“Oh yes,” Linlin replied, sounding extremely pleased with herself. “We’ll have a Vinsmoke on our side~”  


Zoro’s stomach twisted, wondering for a split second where he’d heard that name before he _remembered._  


Vinsmoke. That was that bastard Sanji’s last name.  


Why the _fuck_ was he coming up in this context?  


Hearing Hody’s name was bad enough, but now _him?_ It _had_ to be him. How many people with the name ‘Vinsmoke’ could there possibly be in the world?  


It took everything he had not to burst into the conversation himself, but again, he held himself back, even if now he was tempted to rush from the room and locate his daughter immediately, despite knowing nothing about what Linlin was going to add.  


“A Vinsmoke,” Crocodile noted. “Thought you severed ties with those damn brothers. You have contact with Impel Down?”  


And suddenly, it began to make sense.  


Why the name had sounded vaguely familiar, why Zoro could’ve sworn he’d seen Sanji’s face before when the blond had answered the door.  


He’d seen them before. He’d been in prison but a week, and yet he remembered those three identical men. Those shit-eating grins, those horribly saturated heads of hair that half-obscured two of their faces just like Sanji’s had. That no one had fucking made fun of thanks to their reputations.  


The Vinsmoke brothers….  


He’d seen them only once, as they passed through to a different ward, but that was enough. He’d had one look and thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have to deal with them.  


“Well, thanks to darling Pudding here, we do. And connection to the runt, Sanji, as well.”  


Sanji. _Fuck._  


Zoro swallowed hard, clamped his jaw shut tightly even though he felt like _screaming._ It sure seemed like they’d forced their way into his life anyway.  


“Ah, yes. I seem to recall wasting my money on a good suit for that cancelled wedding,” said Crocodile.  


“And Pudding here wasted a beautiful dress, but we’ll have our second chance,” Linlin replied, Pudding remaining silent on the opposite couch, twisting the ends of her hair nervously. “The boy had cold feet, but now we’ve got an offer that will be impossible for him to refuse~”  


Zoro’s mind reeled, his heart thundering in his chest. He was lost, and he knew he should be trying to gather the full story before he let his anger get the better of him.  


But all he knew was that anyone who associated with the Charlotte family ( _married_ them?) was _not_ someone he wanted anywhere near his daughter. His instincts had been right. The guy was bad. Who _knew_ what sort of crimes he’d committed. Who knew what he’d gotten _away_ with, if he hadn’t been convicted like his brothers.  


He was right. He had to get Sanji out of his life, out of his daughter’s life, and _quickly._ He didn’t know how, but it was clear. He might have had his own problems, and Tana might be even _more_ upset with him. But this was for her safety.  


For the first time in over a year, he no longer felt like the most dangerous man in his daughter’s life.  


It was, oddly, a liberating feeling.  


* * *

“What’s wrong?” Franky asked, trapping his wife’s hand on the counter with his larger one when she set her phone down with a sigh.  


Robin didn’t reply for a moment, just stared hard at her husband’s half-finished bottle of cola.  


The kitchen was quiet, with dinner finished and the kids, including their guest, Tana, having gone upstairs. Franky always made sure to be home in time for dinner, no matter how busy he was at work. Their family valued the time they had together, the stimulating conversation that circulated over a meal, with the boys prattling on excitedly about a fact they’d learned at school, or her husband drawing a diagram on napkins of something he’d built at work.  


He was a wonderful father, and Robin loved him for it, especially considering her own had been absent. He was all she’d ever wanted, and now her sons would never know different.  


Her lips turned up slightly, and she brought her gaze back to him.  


“Have I truly become that obvious with my feelings now?” she asked, shifting her hand under his so she could lace their fingers.  


Franky brought hers up to his lips, pressing a short kiss to her knuckles and grinning.  


“Nah, I just know my girl, is all~” the burly man replied, drawing a proper smile from his wife.  


She chuckled, making a mental note to shroud herself in a bit more mystery, just to keep her husband on his toes, then leaned forward on the counter to rest her chin in her free hand.  


“A text from Zoro,” was all she said. “He asked if Tana could spend the night. He has to stay late at work…”  


Franky huffed a breath, ran a hand back over the light blue fuzz that covered his shaved head.  


“Guess he didn’t listen to ya, huh….” Franky replied. “Dammit, Zoro-bro…”  


“Unless he’s mentally preparing himself and wishes to do so alone,” Robin noted, but didn’t seem too convinced with her own argument.  


Franky stroked his thumb over Robin’s skin soothingly, mouth twisting a little as he thought.  


“Maybe _we_ should just tell her the truth. She’d believe us, right?” he asked.  


She quirked a brow at him, then brought her face teasingly close to his.  


“And don’t you think I’ve debated doing just that?” she replied, taking her hand from his so that she could trail fingers over his square jaw. “But it has to be Zoro. As much as I think Kuina would be cursing his stubbornness, don’t you agree?”  


“Duh,” Franky said, shifting closer as well. “But, man, I just thought...I dunno, after I heard she _ran,_ I thought maybe it’d snap him out of it, y’know?”  


“As did I, but apparently we’ve underestimated how much he resembles an ass~”  


Franky couldn’t help but laugh at that, his eyes crinkling with mirth.  


“Don’t think that’s ever gonna change, is it? Not even Kuina could cure him of that.”  


“I suppose not,” Robin replied, smiling as well, fingers wandering gently to stroke above her husband’s ear.  


The two fell quiet for another minute, gazing at each other fondly as they often did. Sometimes their company was just as well spent in silence, something many might not think Franky capable of, the man usually a loud, whirring assemblage of energy.  


It was how they’d first met, after all. She’d been in graduate school. He’d nearly run her over with his motorcycle. She’d smiled and politely threatened to rip his balls off. And now here they sat, fifteen years later, sharing a home and two children.  


And sometimes three....or four, depending on how Tana and her father fit into the equation.  


“You were lookin’ super beautiful this morning. Kept thinkin’ about you all day,” Franky murmured, lifting his own hand to trail it over a long lock of hair that had slid over her shoulder. “You in suits.”  


He gave a low whistle to show his appreciation, to which she smirked.  


“I hope you didn’t maim any of your workers because of it~ Paulie wasn’t happy last year when you dropped, what was it, a metal beam on his foot? While answering my call~”  


“Eh, Paulie’s never happy,” Franky assured. “Dude needs to lighten up.”  


And then, because there was no danger of crushing an employee, he leaned in to press lips to hers, Robin reciprocating gently, closing her eyes.  


And this was how Thomas found his parents when the boy padded into the kitchen, hoping for an innocent refill of iced tea.  


He stopped short in the doorway, eyes widening, then flicking behind him as if wondering if he should leave. But he looked down at the empty glass still clasped in his hands, the glass that needed to at least be put in the dishwasher if he wasn’t going to refill it.  


So the boy slowly and very quietly began to skirt the outer perimeter of the room, opting not to interrupt his parents’ romantic moment.  


He’d made it about halfway to the sink without making a sound, or so he thought, when Robin slowly pulled out of the kiss, eyes still closed.  


“We have company,” she murmured to her husband, who had yet to take notice, and Thomas froze again, blinking owlishly when both his parents finally looked over at him.  


His mom knew _everything._ There was really no escaping her.  


“I wanted another drink,” Thomas mumbled, going a little red in the face.  


Robin and Franky shared a mischievous glance with each other before Franky pushed away from the counter and headed over to the fridge.  


“I got ya, buddy,” he said, opening it to peer in, moving aside a few of his own glass cola bottles. “What’re you havin’?”  


“Iced tea,” the boy replied as his dad took the glass from him.  


“Sure thing. On the rocks?”  


Thomas shook his head, so Franky pulled out the pitcher, topped the drink off smoothly and handed it back to his son, sans ice.  


After replacing the pitcher and closing the fridge, he plopped his hand down onto Thomas’ hair, giving a gentle ruffle.  


“Whatcha up to anyway?” he asked. “Did you finish your new terrarium?”  


“Almost. But now I’m just reading,” Thomas answered, shooting a little lop-sided smile up at his dad.  


“Alright,” Franky replied, chuckling, and he shifted his hand from the boy’s head, moving it directly across to his own waist to measure.  


“Swear you grew an inch since yesterday too,” he teased, shaking his head, then gave his son a little nudge back towards the hallway.  


“Thomas,” Robin called before he could disappear. “Would you mind telling Tana that she’ll be staying the night?”  


Thomas stopped, looking back over his shoulder at his mom with a slight frown.  


“Really? I thought Mr. Roronoa was coming later.”  


Robin shook her head, careful to conceal any of her frustrations with the matter from her son.  


“He’s just texted me not long ago. I’m afraid he must stay late at work tonight.”  


This didn’t dispel Thomas’ frown. In fact, he furrowed brows to go with it. Thomas was smart, very smart, enough that his parents had spoken with his school about advancing him a grade, but he was also intuitive. Robin often got the feeling that he knew much more about Tana’s situation than they chose to reveal to him. He was only eleven, but sometimes it seemed he knew as much as the adults.  


“Can you guys tell her….?” he asked after a minute. “I don’t want her to be mad at me…”  


Again, Franky and Robin shared a look, a silent exchange passing between them before Robin eventually stepped out from behind the counter, passing her husband with a brush of fingertips against his arm.  


“Alright, I’ll tell her,” she assured, a hand at her son’s back to urge him from the room. “What are you reading?”  


“Crime and Punishment,” Thomas replied as they headed down the hall to the stairs.  


“Oh? In Russian?”  


“Nah. It’s Friday, Mom. I wanna relax.”  


Robin smiled.  


“Fair enough.”  


* * *

“So if you go _after_ your dad leaves for work tomorrow, you can get a few rounds in at the tournament and still make it back before he’s done. You come here like you usually do and I sneak you out. We record your voice; I play it so everyone thinks we’re talking. It’s foolproof!”  


Tana shot a withering look at her friend.  


“Oliver, this isn’t a movie. It’ll never work,” she argued. “Your mom’s psychic anyway. And so is your house....I’ll never get out.”  


“Funny, that sure _sounds_ like a movie plot…” he muttered, flopping back on his bed and staring up at the map of constellations his parents had helped him paint on the ceiling when he was ten, eyes falling on the Millennium Falcon alien battle he’d added towards the center.  


Tana sighed, picking at the beanbag chair she’d settled herself in across the room.  


Silence stretched between them until Oliver shot up again, smacking a fist to his palm in revelation.  


“I’ve got it! We mod the fridge into a fighter jet and break out in style!”  


“Okay, now you’re just being dumb,” she muttered in reply.  


Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door, and the knob turned a second later, Oliver’s mom poking her head into the room.  


“What’s this about breaking out?” she asked, a knowing smirk on her face, forcing both kids to quickly reply, “Nothing!” simultaneously.  


Robin merely chuckled, crossing slender arms over her chest.  


“Well, you’ll have more time to come up with a plan. Tana, your father has asked for you to spend the night.”  


“Nice!” Oliver cheered, though his face fell a little when his friend didn’t look as enthused. “Orrrr not,” he mumbled under his breath.  


“Oh,” Tana replied, her brow furrowing and her gaze downcast. “I didn’t….bring anything though.”  


“It’s quite alright,” Robin assured with a kind smile. “You may borrow whatever you need.”  


This didn’t seem to relax her much, but the girl still nodded her thanks.  


“Okay,” she said, then hesitated for a second before asking, “Did he say why…?”  


“He informed me he must stay late at work.”  


“Oh…” Tana muttered again, sinking a little further into the beanbag chair.  


Robin once again found it rather difficult to not say anything more, to keep her displeasure with Zoro to herself, but she held her tongue, wrapping a hand around the doorknob.  


“I’ll search for something you can wear to bed,” she murmured, then slipped out the door and closed it quietly behind her.  


Once she’d left, Oliver glanced over at his friend a little cautiously, sensing her upset.  


Tana didn’t say a word, just let out an unhappy huff of breath and stared straight ahead.  


“You could always call Sanji to take you tomorrow….” he suggested, a tentative smile spreading over his face. “Bet he’d do it. It’s _kind of_ an emergency?”  


Only kind of. But the thought had, admittedly, crossed Tana’s mind too. Sanji had been pissed she’d called for a not-so-urgent reason that day. And he’d probably be pissed if she called him again, but….something about the man had her believe he’d do anything she requested, even if he complained about it along the way.  


Yesterday, she wouldn’t have entertained the option, but she had a hard time believing her dad _really_ had to stay late at work. Usually he wanted out of there the instant his shift was up. And it seemed awfully convenient for him to suddenly stay late after all the craziness that had gone down in the past few days.  


So if he wasn’t going to pay her any mind, perhaps someone else would.  


It took her a minute, but eventually Tana started to smile as well.  


“Maybe I will,” she replied.  


* * *

Confidential. Confidential. He’d promised to keep the business with the Charlotte family confidential, but now? He didn’t think that was possible. Not with what he now knew. And Zoro didn’t much care about the so-called ‘consequences’ Crocodile had threatened him with.  


This involved his daughter now, and despite how neglectful he was continuing to be by ditching his responsibilities, shit had _changed._ This was all to keep her safe, even if neither she, nor Robin and Franky, would understand this right now.  


He hadn’t been able to concentrate for the rest of the night, even after Linlin and her children had left with promises to return the next night with further developments. He didn’t care what those developments were. If Sanji was involved with them in any way, which it seemed he was, it was time to cut the guy out of his life before his daughter got too deeply attached.  


He’d texted Robin the second he had the chance, and her short reply of, _‘Very well,’_ had told him just how disapproving she was of his apparent avoidance, particularly after their talk that morning.  


Of course, he _didn’t_ really have to stay late after work, and Robin probably assumed that. Robin always assumed correctly.  


But he told himself this was the last time. He would take care of this, and then get his shit together.  


And so, instead of going to pick up his daughter when he got out of work at ten thirty like he’d originally promised, instead of going _home_ even, he’d high-tailed it out of the just-awakening casino before Valentine could coerce him into a round of drinks. He’d hailed a cab and curtly directed the driver to the boardwalk. To the Baratie.  


It was Friday. Traffic was heavy, and Rain Dinners was clear across the city, far inland.  


The ride was, therefore, torturously long as the minutes ticked by and the meter ticked up. It only served to heighten his anticipation, the feeling of angry adrenaline pounding through his veins.  


He had no idea what he was going to do, what he was going to say, just that he _had_ to say it. He knew far too much about Sanji’s ties, and he would gladly use that information against him if he had to.  


Fuck, how had it even come to this…?  


He closed his eyes, knocking his head against the window as the lights of the city flowed by.  


And he imagined a soft hand sneaking over his on the seat, imagined opening his eyes and seeing Kuina sitting there beside him, leaning in closer and murmuring that he didn’t need to do this. That she was there and he wasn’t alone. He didn’t need to be angry or fearful, because they were together.  


He would follow her anywhere, let her convince him of anything.  


Hell, he didn’t care what she said, just that she was _there._  


And he wished more than anything that she was with him, that he wasn’t bitterly fixated on going after a man who, while shady, was still wholly innocent of causing him or his daughter any harm.  


But his daughter was all he had left. The last piece of Kuina.  


And anything that threatened that was not to be tolerated.  


He’d justified this to himself by the time the cab finally pulled into the parking lot at the end of the pier, and he’d convinced himself of this by the time he’d paid the driver and begun marching his way towards the Baratie.  


It was busy that night. Shops had closed, but restaurants were still open, and the sounds of conversation and laughter filled the night air, drifting out from open windows and doorways of the buildings that lined the boardwalk.  


The Baratie was one of them, the lights outside the curious three-tiered building’s exterior dancing on the water beyond it.  


Did Sanji work there? He realized he didn’t actually know, but Zoro would fucking wait on his fucking balcony if he had to until he got into his apartment.  


He slipped past a crowd of drunk people stumbling past, his sights fixed on the restaurant’s entrance. He supposed he could go inside the restaurant, but he knew he didn’t have the cash for a swanky place like this. Better to avoid standing out.  


Suddenly, there was noise, however, in the alleyway, a rustling, and the sound of something metal slamming shut. This noise was what led him around the corner, to the same alleyway he’d stalked down only a day and a half ago, his heart pounding and adrenaline surging just as it had before.  


It might have been someone or something else entirely, and he sure as hell didn’t believe in fate or destiny, but when he stopped at the mouth of the alley to see the asshole blond himself, leaning against the wall of the restaurant next to a large metal bin, smoking a cigarette, he knew luck was on his side at the very least.  


Zoro wasted no further time.  


He stormed down the alley without hesitation, his chest heaving with angry breaths, and his expression entirely dangerous.  


“Hey!” he barked out, though Sanji saw him coming an instant before.  


The blond’s eyes widened in shock, and he quickly straightened, turning towards the approaching man, but his reaction wasn’t quick enough.  


Zoro reached him, grabbed him by the shirt collar and shoved him up against the wall, Sanji barely able to utter a gritted, “What the _fuc---!”_  


_“You stay the **fuck** away from my daughter!”_ Zoro growled, inches from the other man’s face, his fisted hand giving a hard shake to jostle him. _“Do you fucking hear me?!”_  


It took Sanji a second, seemingly to gather what the hell was happening in that moment, but instead of cowering or stammering, the blond’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into an intimidating snarl of his own.  


“Why?!” he spit back. “So you can isolate her more? Leave her to feel like she has _no one?_ \---Get the _fuck_ off me---!”  


Hands lifted, cigarette still between fingers, to shove Zoro away with all his might, and considering that force _was_ great enough to have Zoro stumble back, he couldn’t help the small smirk of satisfaction that tugged at his lips.  


It only surprised Zoro for a moment before he rushed at Sanji again with the intent of grabbing him.  


“You fucking _bastard---”_  


But this time, a foot met his chest before he could reach him. The blond actually lifted a leg fucking high enough to kick him back with rather perfect form.  


“I _told_ you---don’t _touch_ me!” Sanji hissed, casually lowering his foot as he watched Zoro stagger back yet again.  


When Zoro regained his balance, he did stay back, keeping a few paces between them, but the look he fixed on the ground was just as furious, just as threatening, his fists trembling with the need to lash out.  


He restrained himself, with some difficulty, instead focusing on spilling his animosity into his words.  


“You get the _fuck_ out of our lives,” he bit out. “Don’t talk to my daughter; don’t....fucking pick her up from _school,_ what the _fuck!_ You’re done! I’m not gonna let someone like _you_ anywhere near her!”  


“Oh, _that’s_ rich!” Sanji scoffed in reply. “The hell is that supposed to mean? I’ve been _helping_ her! I haven’t done anything to---”  


“Don’t be stupid! You’re a Vinsmoke! Don’t think I don’t know who your brothers are! You’re involved with the _Charlotte_ family!” Zoro growled.  


It didn’t matter that he’d just reached those revelations that night. They were powerful revelations and they were _damning,_ as far as he was concerned.  


Sanji’s face paled visibly, even in the dim lighting of the alley, though his features were quick to darken soon after.  


_“How the fuck do you know about that,”_ he rumbled out menacingly.  


A flash of accomplishment crossed Zoro’s face, his voice smooth and cunning when he continued. He wasn’t afraid of this guy, no matter what his familial roots were.  


“How isn’t important. But I fucking know. I fucking know everything,” he assured confidently. “About your brothers. In _Impel Down._ And about your ex-fiancée. What was the bitch’s name? Something stupid. Pudding---?”  


Sanji’s heel connected, faster than he’d moved in a fucking long time, with Zoro’s jaw.  


It happened in a split second, before either of them could really react.  


Zoro went flying into the side of the building, his head slamming into the wall and causing a shower of dust to rain down from the brick.  


Then he slumped to the ground limply, leaving the livid blond standing opposite his unconscious form.


	5. Pain

Sanji’s heartbeat was thundering in his ears, heavy breaths muffling the distant noises of conversation that still drifted around the corner from the restaurant. His foot was still tingling from the impact of the kick, and Zoro lay there on the ground against the wall, still unmoving.  


The cook didn’t move, just fixed his eyes on the other man, somewhat in shock.  


When was the last time he’d done that? Put his full force behind a kick, and out of blind _rage?_  


It had been years. And while he apparently hadn’t lost any power, he was still rather stunned he’d done so.  


Fighting, for real, wasn’t something he liked to do. He’d learned how, for self defense, but to be reckless enough to hurt someone on purpose? That wasn’t him, no matter how nasty his temper could get. He’d sooner let fly with words rather than fists….or feet, in this case.  


But now, this had happened. Zoro had appeared, the man he’d been angry with before they’d even _met._ The man he’d been fucking concerned with for longer than they’d actually interacted face-to-face. And he’d run his mouth, brought up things he shouldn’t have known.  


And Sanji had reacted.  


And now, as his pulse began to slow and his breaths quieted in the still night air, he found himself faced with the very real dilemma that he’d just brutally kicked someone in the head. Even if that person was a shitty father and potential murderer.  


Was it justified?  


Well, he’d have to think about that later. First, he had to make sure the bastard was still alive.  


He stayed where he was, watching the man for any sign of movement, eyes roving up and down his form for anything, a flutter of eyelids, a twitch of fingers….  


Nothing.  


“Hey,” he tried, but when that warranted no response, he took a tentative step closer. “Hey, get up. Quit fucking around.”  


Again, nothing.  


_“Shit…”_ the cook cursed, lifting a hand and running it over his mouth anxiously before raking it back through his hair.  


Fuck, what did he do? Call an ambulance?  


And tell them what….? That _he’d_ done this?  


He realized with sickening dread that he might be feeling an inkling of what Zoro had after what he did to his wife….  


But no. He hadn’t _killed_ him, surely, and Zoro _deserved_ it anyway. He’d come out here, stalked him practically, and fucking tried to assault him first. And Sanji’s record was clean. Zoro’s wasn’t. He was pretty sure, in a legal battle, he would come out on top.  


This didn’t bring him much comfort, however, because his thoughts had drifted to just _whose_ father this was.  


Tana’s. And if her dad got locked up again because of him, she’d have no one.  


And Tana would probably never forgive him. Hell, she was a good kid. She probably wouldn’t forgive him _now…_  


No. He wouldn’t call anyone. Not yet.  


Sanji swallowed his fear and crossed the alley to the man, whose fall had thankfully been cushioned by the gym bag he’d had over his shoulder that was now being crushed under his dead weight as he lay on his side.  


He stretched out a leg to nudge Zoro’s shoulder with his foot, feeling a bit of a chill run down his spine when he received no reaction. He was breathing at least. That much he could see from the shallow rise and fall of Zoro’s chest.  


Relief flooded him, and he finally worked up the nerve to crouch before him, popping his cigarette into his mouth and pushing the man back a bit with a hand so he could get a better look at his face. Zoro’s head lolled back, and Sanji got a good view of the nasty red splotch along his jaw that would no doubt be bruising soon.  


He also noticed red blood glistening on green hair.  


_“Fuck,”_ Sanji muttered to himself, fingers migrating to the back of Zoro’s head to gently examine the place that had smacked the wall. Head wounds bled a lot, right? More than usual? This wasn’t _too_ serious, was it?  


It was no good though. He couldn’t see anything in this light. He needed to get him out of the alleyway, preferably _before_ anyone found them.  


The cook decided to slap at the uninjured side of Zoro’s face one more time in an attempt to rouse him.  


“Hey! _Hey!_ Come on, stupid mosshead! Don’t just--- _urgh!”_  


No use. And Sanji chose to let the irritation win out over the panic. Yes, he’d knocked the guy out, but as he’d justified to himself, Zoro was the one who’d shown up here unexpectedly and fucking threatened him, and now he was fucking _lucky_ Sanji was going to help him out here.  


It was probably hypocritical of him to be angry, considering the creeping he’d done on Zoro, but at least he’d had _reason_ to be suspicious of him from the start.  


What the fuck was up with this alleyway anyway? Attracting stray kids and grassheads like moths…  


He pushed up to his feet, leaving Zoro where he was for a second, and stomped over to the kitchen door. Technically, he’d only been taking a short break, but that break was going to have to continue indefinitely now.  


Sanji yanked open the door and poked his head into the still-bustling kitchen. Friday night was always busy, and he was thankful right now for his co-workers’ preoccupation.  


“Yo, Patty,” he called out when the man lumbered past with a heavy bag of flour thrown over his shoulder. “I gotta clock out. You guys got everything covered?”  


“Huh?” Patty grunted, stopping to face the blond. “Yeah. But where’re _you_ goin’?”  


Sanji rolled his eyes.  


“To get rid of a dead body,” he answered, deadpan.  


Patty quirked a brow at him. Then he shook his head and shrugged before heading off to continue his duties with a wave of a hand, used to the blond’s weirdness.  


“Whatever, man,” he said, to which Sanji smirked triumphantly and closed the door.  


This left him alone in the alley once more with an incapacitated guy who had far more bulk than Sanji knew what to do with.  


He watched him for a moment, ran a hand through his hair again, and sighed.  


Well, he had to get him to his apartment somehow.  


“Fuck you, you know that?” Sanji muttered, even though Zoro couldn’t hear him.  


He grudgingly made his way to Zoro’s side again so he could yank Zoro’s gym bag out from under him and throw it over his own shoulder.  


This left him with the dilemma of moving the man himself, around to the back of the building and up stairs no less.  


There was nothing else to do but drag him.  


So Sanji crouched down again, pushed Zoro over onto his back and shoved arms under his. Just lifting the man’s torso was an effort, and the cook let loose a string of curses as he began the painstaking task of lugging Zoro down the alley.  


It was tough, his upper body strength somewhat lacking, but flat ground wasn’t too impossible to traverse, and before long, he had the guy at the foot of the stairs that led up to his balcony.  


He stopped to gather himself, half propping Zoro up against the steps as he took a long drag from his cigarette.  


Twelve steps. Twelve, that was all. He could make it.  


One last puff, then he flicked his cigarette into the sea beyond and hoisted Zoro up again, backing slowly up the stairs and pulling the man up after him.  


This action jostled him a little harder, and he heard a soft groan leave the idiot.  


_“Oh, for fuck’s sake,”_ Sanji huffed out, pausing. “If you’re gonna wake up, do it now!”  


Zoro fell quiet again, however, remained limp in his arms, eliciting a growl from the cook.  


“Useless…” he muttered.  


He forced himself to continue, Zoro’s sneakers thudding dully on each wooden step as he went, until finally, he’d made it to the top, the blond nearly dropping him on the surface of his balcony.  


Arms quivering, panting, Sanji was a mess. Even Zoro’s bag felt like a great weight just then, so he temporarily left the man sprawled at the top of the stairs to get his apartment door open, drop the bag, and clear some shit aside so he had a clear shot to the couch.  


Then he returned to the deck, this time grabbing the guy by his wrists and dragging him that way.  


It was ridiculous. It was absolutely ridiculous that this was happening right now, Sanji thought, and not in a funny way.  


No, it was a definite what-the-actual-fuck moment when he finally had the guy on his couch, nearly bleeding all over his throw pillow before Sanji remembered to turn his head to the side.  


Again, he took a moment to catch his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering another few choice words, just to make himself feel better.  


Then he shut the open door, flipped on lights, and went in search of towels and some water so he could assess the damage to Zoro’s head.  


He returned a minute later with a water bottle and some spare towels that were, unfortunately, white, meaning he’d have to _ruin_ them, all to help this asshole.  


The cook rolled up sleeves and knelt beside the couch. He pressed one of the cloths to the bottle, tipping it carefully to soak the towel, then pushed Zoro over a little more, nearly shoving the man’s face into the couch back, but he didn’t care. It was the only way to get a clear view of the back of his head.  


Now, in the light, he could see the injury wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. Just a small scrape on the crown of his head. In fact, he didn’t even look to be bleeding freely anymore.  


He supposed that was a good thing, but he still felt fucking _weird_ about dabbing the wet cloth in Zoro’s hair to clean away some of the blood. He felt weird that he now knew what the guy’s hair felt like, just how compact the man’s muscular weight was after dragging him this far. These were things he’d never wanted to know about any man, let alone _Zoro Roronoa._  


It only took another minute before he’d cleaned him up a bit, and he felt confident letting the man’s head rest properly on a pillow, not without spreading another towel over it just in case.  


Eyes fell on Zoro’s face then, particularly his bruising jaw.  


Sanji felt an odd sense of satisfaction with it. Or maybe he would’ve allowed himself to feel so if Zoro hadn’t been so fucking still.  


He almost looked normal, with his features relaxed and not in some perpetual scowl or frown. He certainly looked younger anyway, and Sanji stupidly found himself wondering which of them was older. For once, he hoped he was, just so he could beat the man at something else, even birth.  


But that question was soon replaced, again, by the one regarding an ambulance. His common sense told him that blows to the head, especially this serious, required medical attention.  


So he sat back and shimmied his phone from his back pocket, scrolling through his contacts a little shakily until he found the one person who certainly wasn’t certified, but might know a thing or two about traumatic head injuries. After all, she’d spent much of their childhood helping him through his.  


It wasn’t often he and his older sister spoke, apart from text form. They preferred to live separate lives, but it was always with the knowledge that, should they really need each other, they were there.  


He could only hope she would be more helpful than Zeff was just a few nights ago when he was saddled with his _current_ problem’s _daughter._  


The phone rang several times, almost long enough that he was sure it would go to voicemail. But no, eventually, he heard the call connect and the sounds of loud music and conversation nearly deafened him.  


_“Oh, how fortuitous. We were just talking about you, little brother.”_  


Sanji just barely made out Reiju’s voice over the background noise, the cook letting out an irritated breath.  


“Reiju, I can’t fucking hear you,” he huffed. “Where the hell are you? And who’s talking about me?”  


There was the sound of shuffling, during which he thought he heard some familiar voices, but then the noise of wherever Reiju was started to fade a bit to the point it was tolerable.  


_“Better?”_ she asked, and he nodded.  


“Much.”  


_“Nojiko and I are at Shakky’s. We ran into Sabo and Koala, can you believe it? Apparently they’re letting Ace babysit Tiger tonight. I told them they might have a casualty on their hands when they return~”_  


Sanji scoffed.  


“Who? Ace? Or Tiger?”  


_“I guess it depends who sets fire to something first,”_ she replied.  


“Well, better Ace watch her than Luffy,” Sanji muttered in reply, shuddering to imagine the havoc that bouncy idiot could cause just trying to keep his six-year-old niece alive for a few hours.  


But the cook quickly shook his head, snapping himself back to the matter at hand.  


“But no, you’re distracting me! I have an emergency here!” he asserted, narrowed eyes glued to the thing on his couch that _he_ was now unwillingly tasked with keeping alive. “I may or may not have knocked an asshole unconscious, and now he’s on my couch!”  


There was a long beat of silence on the other end, during which he imagined his sister fixing him with a withering stare.  


_“What?”_ she eventually said, her tone one of confusion and disbelief.  


“Just hear me out! I---!”  


_“Hold on, does this have anything to do with that murderer’s daughter you took in the other night?”_  


Sanji’s brows raised.  


“Huh? You---you know about that? I never told you.”  


_“You told Ace. So you told everyone.”_  


“Ugh,” Sanji grumbled.  


He didn’t mind people knowing he’d helped Tana, but he didn’t necessarily want anyone knowing what had _just_ occurred. This business was complicated, and he did not want people thinking he’d attacked the guy for no reason.  


“Look, I--- _yes,_ it’s him! But he showed up at the Baratie and tried to pick a fight with me! Told me to stay away from his daughter! And---”  


Sanji lowered his voice, in case his upset would somehow reanimate the unconscious man before him.  


“He knows about our brothers,” he hissed into the phone. “And about Pudding. I don’t know how, but he knows. He came after me, and I knocked him out without thinking and now he’s on my couch and probably---getting blood all over it and---”  


_“Would you calm down? I take it you called an ambulance?”_ his sister’s voice interrupted smoothly.  


“I--- _no!_ And tell them what? That I was the one who did it? The guy would wake up and tell the cops anyway!”  


_“And he still might---”_  


“Reiju!” he nearly screeched before remembering to keep his voice down. “Listen. When Yonji knocked me out that one time, _you_ never took me to the hospital---”  


_“I couldn’t drive yet---”_  


“Exactly! Would you just---help me out here! What the hell do I do for him?”  


He heard a long-suffering sigh in his ear, but he was too frantic to feel bad about causing his sister trouble. Even if she bitched or called him stupid, she did always pull through.  


_“Is he lying down?”_ she eventually asked.  


“Yes. He’s on my couch.”  


_“And you said he’s bleeding?”_  


“Well, was. But I cleaned him up and I think it’s stopped. It was just on the back of his head where he hit the bricks---”  


_“Hit the bricks?!”_  


“I kicked him in the face and he flew back into the wall,” he justified, a little guiltily. He honestly hadn’t _meant_ for it to happen.  


_“Goddammit, Sanji,”_ Reiju muttered, and there was silence for a second, but when her voice came back, she sounded more confident. _“Alright, look. Just keep him comfortable. Don’t mess with his head too much. All you can do really is put something cold on the injury and wait for him to wake up. Then assess things from there.”_  


Sanji sighed, looking at the forming bruise on Zoro’s jaw, which looked to be changing colors already, a few shades of purple beginning to mix in with the angry red.  


“And that’s it?” he asked, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his gut despite his best efforts to stay collected. It was almost becoming more unsettling to see the guy like _this,_ rather than in his face and shouting.  


_“That’s the minimal amount of care,”_ she insisted. _“If he’s not awake and coherent in a half hour, Sanji, then you **need** to fucking call an ambulance. Otherwise, I will.”_  


“Okay, I get it,” he mumbled, hating being on the receiving end of his sister’s scolding.  


_“Good,”_ she replied. _“Text me a status report if anything changes. If I haven’t heard from you in thirty minutes, I’m calling.”_  


“Fine,” he conceded, gaze drifting down to the wet cloth still in his hand, fingers clenching absently in the damp fabric. “And don’t----I mean, you’re not gonna go back and tell everyone, are you?”  


Reiju actually chuckled a little.  


_“I should, but I won’t. So long as you fix this shit on your own.”_  


He let out a breath of relief, knowing his sister was telling the truth. For all her overbearing behavior, she’d always been the best at keeping secrets.  


Aside from his mother, Reiju had always been the one he could trust in his family. She’d gotten him through countless tough times, and they’d both learned to rely on each other after their mother’s death especially. There’d been many a lonely night, when they were kids, that he’d shuffled to her room in search of comfort, and she’d never turned him down…  


“I’ll fix it,” Sanji assured, because despite everything, he didn’t want to seem completely incompetent in front of his sister. As insane as it was, this was still his problem, and his alone. “Thanks.”  


_“Uh huh. Good luck~”_ she replied, and he thought he heard a smirk in her voice, even as the sounds of the bar grew louder in the background as she, most likely, made her way back to where she was before. _“Thirty minutes~”_ she reminded. _“I hope he lives~”_  


“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, then added, “Bye,” before ending the call and lowering his phone to his lap, again faced with the matter at hand.  


He almost hadn’t wanted to hang up and deal with this all by himself, but the responsible part of him insisted he must.  


So he pushed himself up to his feet and headed to the kitchen, returning a minute later with a pack of frozen peas (appropriate for the dumb vegetable-head) wrapped in a dishcloth. He wasn’t sure he wanted to taint even the outer packaging of the food by rubbing it all over the bastard’s skin, but he didn’t often cook with frozen foods, so he supposed it wasn’t a _total_ waste.  


He lowered down beside the couch again, shifting close enough that he could touch the makeshift compress to Zoro’s jaw, gently holding it against the nasty bruise.  


Even the cold contact did nothing to rouse the man.  


So Sanji settled in for what might be a long wait, depending on how damn lazy the guy decided to be.  


He checked his phone for the time.  


Thirty minutes, less than that now, for Zoro to get his ass in gear.  


“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t shown up like some psycho,” Sanji muttered to the unconscious man despite himself, pulling up a knee and resting his free arm on it, watching those closed eyelids that didn’t so much as flicker.  


He sighed.  


“What the fuck did I do? Huh, mosshead?” Nothing, as far as he knew, at least not to make the guy freak out as he had.  


More concerning was another question.  


“What the fuck did _you_ do…?” he murmured.  


* * *

_“Ow! Don’t press so hard! It fucking hurts!” Zoro cried, swatting at her hand and the ice pack smashed against the left side of his face.  
_

_“Don’t be such a baby!” Kuina shot back, digging it into his eye with a bit more force before letting up again. “Be glad it was only a shinai. If I’d used Wado, you would’ve lost that eye.”_  


_He grumbled under his breath sulkily and looked away, trying to focus on other things besides the fact that he’d just been beaten yet again. And pretty damn hard._  


_He’d known Kuina for six years, and he’d assumed that, by the age of sixteen, he would have been able to best her in a fight. But he’d had no luck. It didn’t matter how hard he trained, how many hundreds of pounds he could bench press, how many tournaments he won. When it came down to him and Kuina, she always came out on top._  


_Occasionally, he got close, but she was always just that little bit faster, that tiny bit more agile. She was always one step ahead of him._  


_It had frustrated him, immensely, for years. He could hardly talk to her, hold a normal conversation outside of sparring because he was so damn focused. So focused on finally taking her down. He’d settle for even once, he thought for a while._  


_But then, things began to change…._  


_The frustrations were still there, but it was different, somehow. He’d looked at her, and he’d still wanted to defeat her, just as strongly as ever._  


_But he also wanted to kiss her. And the day he realized that had been a terrifying one indeed._  


_He’d been determined not to let it distract him from his goals. And for the most part, it didn’t, at least not out on the training floor. He could look at her and still see an opponent, and that was **important,** he knew._  


_Zoro had never thought much about love and romance in his life. He still didn’t feel he needed it or even wanted it. It was all too mushy, too dramatic. It would surely ruin everything, his discipline, his focus….but when he looked at Kuina, he didn’t see someone who would take away those things. He saw someone, perhaps the only person, who could **give** him what he needed, continue to strengthen him indefinitely._  


_He was young, and she still frustrated him to hell and back, but he began to recognize this, slowly but surely._  


_She understood him, shared his goals. Hell, they’d promised each other they’d reach the very top together. He could watch her and learn from her, and she gave him so much. She’d helped change him from an angry, lonely little boy to someone with direction and drive. Someone with hope for the future._  


_He never told anyone._  


_He never told anyone how deeply his attachment to her had grown. He never told anyone what he thought when their eyes met, how sometimes his hands would itch to pull her closer to him when she pinned him._  


_He never told anyone about how stunning she looked when they fought, features ablaze with ferocity and determination. And yet, how kind she was, how encouraging her smile was when she worked with the younger kids._  


_And he never told anyone about her secrets. Secrets that he protected fiercely, her insecurities that she’d entrusted to him and no one else, fears of not being good enough even though he knew none of it need be true._  


_He’d never told anyone the day he first associated the word ‘love’ with none other than her._  


_“You don’t have to hold it,” he muttered, swatting at her hand so he could take the ice pack in his own. “Just give it to me.”_  


_“Shut up,” she shot back, keeping her hand there stubbornly, her gaze fixed firmly on the same spot._  


_It was quiet. They sat cross-legged across from each other on the dojo mats, the sliding shoji doors on the garden side of the room left open to let in the warm spring breeze. The dojo was located in the city, but somehow, all noise seemed to cancel out when they were here._  


_It was tranquil enough that he could hear her breathing, a little uneven, see the way her jaw clenched every now and again as if she were warring with something in her mind._  


_And he was pretty sure he knew what that was, why she’d fought with such raw emotion that day._  


_“Your dad told me about the scholarship,” he murmured cautiously, not wanting to set her on edge. “I’m sorry.”_  


_Her eyes flicked immediately to his, almost shocked that he’d brought it up at all._  


_Something passed between them, leaving the short distance charged with an energy that Zoro was beginning to feel more and more, as they got older. He wasn’t sure if it was his own imagination. Or if he was the only one feeling it…_  


_Eventually, she looked away again with a soft exhale._  


_“It’s whatever,” she muttered, her bitter tone speaking to the exact opposite. “I’m over it.”_  


_She wasn’t. Zoro knew her, and knew she wasn’t. Kuina wasn’t the type to bullshit, except when it came to her own feelings, he’d learned. Much like him, actually…_  


_Still, that expression of defeat on her face wasn’t one he was used to seeing. And it certainly wasn’t one he wanted to see in this context. He did not want to see the person he admired so much crumble because of someone else’s stupidity._  


_“The only reason they gave it to Kaku over you is because CP9 sponsored him,” he replied, his voice low and serious. “Everyone knows you’re the better---”_  


_“I said it’s whatever!” she snapped suddenly, inadvertently pressing a little too hard on his bruise. “Can we please drop it?”_  


_He winced, reaching up as if to stop her, but she caught herself and relieved the pressure, so he lowered his hand again._  


_“I’m just trying to make you feel better.....jeez…” he sulked, averting eyes as well._  


_Silence befell them again, and it was far more tense than it should have been. She was stubborn, as stubborn as him, and he knew that any attempts of his to reach out would surely be futile unless she decided to let him in._  


_He forced himself to be patient, to remember how he would feel in this situation and be more understanding to her plight. He was certainly getting much better at that than he’d been when he was younger._  


_It was only another minute, though, before he heard her sigh softly, the tension between them simmering a bit, and he looked back over to see her gaze downcast, brow furrowed and her features troubled._  


_“I don’t think there’s anything that could make me feel better right now,” she murmured dejectedly. “It’s over. I can’t go to school without that scholarship. The financial aid won’t cover it.” She closed her eyes, shook her head a little and muttered again, “It’s over.”_  


_Zoro knew there was nothing he could do. She was right. Kuina’s dad had made it pretty clear they couldn’t swing it without a major scholarship. She’d known that from the start and accepted it._  


_But none of them had really entertained the possibility that she **wouldn’t** get the scholarship._  


_“So what are you gonna do?” he asked quietly, watching her face, the way her hair, an inch or so past her chin now, fell over her jaw, still so smooth and orderly, even after their rather rough sparring session._  


_Kuina sighed._  


_“I guess start working here…” she said with a shrug._  


_It had always been an easy option, one that she was fortunate to have available to her after graduation. Not to mention, she was skilled enough now, at age seventeen, to lead virtually any of the classes, even the advanced adults. It was a **good** option, as far as Zoro was concerned, and she could still compete, just perhaps not with the breadth she could if traveling with a university team._  


_Not to mention, he probably would’ve missed her if she’d gone away._  


_“That’s not….so bad,” he mumbled, but it didn’t seem to appease her much considering she merely shrugged again and fell quiet._  


_He didn’t feel so much awkward in her silence, or uncomfortable. But he did feel somewhat helpless. He was no good at comforting with his words, and he still wasn’t confident enough to know how to console in….other ways. Even if his fingers seemed to want to brush that strand of hair from her eyes, or touch her soft, but strong hand, he stopped himself, because what then?_  


_She’d probably kill him if he foolishly took advantage of such a vulnerable moment. Or worse, she might see it as pity._  


_“I’m not gonna be mad if you apply for the scholarship next year too….” she was saying, her voice a little more sure, as if it was something she’d thought about a lot. “You’ll probably get it.”_  


_This had Zoro’s brows draw in, a bit confused._  


_“No way,” he insisted, shaking his head. “If you didn’t get it, there’s no way I would.”_  


_“Come on, Zoro,” she scolded, looking at him like he should know otherwise. Then, when he didn’t seem to be getting it, she huffed out, “You’re a **guy.** Let’s be real.”_  


_This brought a brief flicker of surprise to Zoro’s face, until irritation replaced it and he scowled._  


_“No, you come on, Kuina,” he shot back. They’d had this argument before, and while he was well aware things were different for girls in their sport, he was also fully aware that none of it should apply to Kuina. Not to the strongest person he knew._  


_“I told you,” he growled firmly, eager to make her see his point. “It was CP9 that got Kaku in. You’re so much better than him. You’re better than anyone. And y’know what, fuck Kaku, fuck that school! You don’t need to go to some dumb university to get stronger. Tons of Olympians trained, like....in their fucking backyards!”_  


_She looked at him defiantly, but he could see the way her eyes shone slightly, see her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek in the way she always did to keep emotions at bay._  


_He knew he’d struck a chord when she reached up to fiddle with her bangs with her free hand, eager for some sort of distraction._  


_“I just thought….” she hissed, letting out a discontented breath. “I dunno, I guess I just had this whole plan in my head. That we could.....go together. I know you weren’t interested in the school part, but…”_  


_Something in his chest clenched at that, eyes narrowing as he tilted his head, wondering if he’d heard that right._  


_“You really wanted me to go too?” he questioned._  


_He was surprised, admittedly. They were good friends, best friends, by now, even if neither liked to admit it out loud. But he’d always assumed she wouldn’t like him tagging along to the same school. He’d imagined she would have wanted some space._  


_But, to his amazement, she looked him straight in the eye and answered with a definite, “Yeah….I need my best sparring partner.”_  


_His heart leapt to his throat, and he swallowed hard, **feeling** a flush spreading over his skin for some unknown reason. For all his budding feelings for her, this had never happened before, and he didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t even said anything remotely romantic and yet, here he was, growing flustered as hell for no damn reason._  


_“Well, now you’ll have some extra time to keep kicking my ass, huh,” was all he could think to mumble, a little awkwardly, feeling his heart picking up speed in his chest, keeping his gaze on anything but her. She could probably feel the heat on his face. At this rate, it would melt the ice pack…_  


_She didn’t reply, though a second later, her hand did move, taking the compress from his face. Drawn in a vertical line from his forehead down to his left cheek was a thick rectangle of a bruise forming, the perfect image of the impact he’d suffered from the bamboo sword whacking him soundly in the face._  


_The injury throbbed slightly, as if protesting the loss of the soothing ice, but it was soon replaced by another sensation, that of Kuina’s fingertips brushing over his skin delicately._  


_It elicited a sharp intake of breath from the young swordsman, his eyes shooting back to her almost fearfully, certainly in slight panic._  


_He didn’t know why. She wasn’t hurting him._  


_But her face was getting closer to his as she examined the discolored skin, and Zoro found himself frozen, even more so when their eyes met and that same odd spark of **something** coursed between them again._  


_His lips parted automatically, breaths coming lightly as he watched her, felt her fingers slide down to his jaw, quietly exploring._  


_He saw it then, given how close they were, saw her gaze drift downward to his lips, which had gone dry rather suddenly, of which he became excessively aware._  


_Zoro didn’t dare move, even if his heart felt ready to burst from his chest, even if every instinct within him was urging him forward to close the distance between them._  


_Her thumb stretched down over his skin, nearly brushing the corner of his lips._  


_But then, she avoided it, passing over his chin instead before lifting her hand from his face entirely and breaking whatever spell had come over them._  


_It was hard to say if Zoro was disappointed or relieved as Kuina sat back, a hand coming up to rub at her own cheek, almost as if in disbelief of what she’d done as well._  


_He supposed he **was** relieved, considering he’d realized, during that brief moment, he had no idea how to pursue anything like this, how to act, what to do._  


_But it was also disappointing….because he’d never been one for planning, and if there was ever a moment to seize, that probably would’ve been one._  


_“Come on,” Kuina was saying, placing a hand on her knee and getting to her feet._  


_Zoro wondered if she would forget this, pretend like it hadn’t happened, and they would never speak of such a moment again._  


_But something in him said otherwise, particularly when she met his eye once more, her lips tugging up into a little smirk, and she held a hand down to him._  


_He blinked up at her, still a little dazed, and no longer from the head injury._  


_Zoro accepted the hand without really thinking, letting her help yank him to his feet, where he stood, now a few inches taller than her despite being younger._  


_“Let’s go explain to my dad how I almost took out your eye,” she teased, releasing his hand and quirking her brow impishly._  


_And he found himself stupidly thinking that she could take anything of his that she wanted…._  


* * *

_“Kuina…”_  


Sanji nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard that soft mumble, felt Zoro’s jaw shift suddenly under his hand which still held the frozen pack to his face.  


It had been ten minutes or so since he’d hung up with Reiju, and he was growing steadily more….well, _worried_ wasn’t the word, but certainly more antsy. He hadn’t thought he’d hit Zoro that hard. But then again, Zoro had called Pudding a bitch, and even today, that was enough to get the cook riled up.  


It actually pained him a little, to hear that name leave the man’s lips. Pudding’s name, of course, but also the one the man had just uttered.  


That was his wife’s name, wasn’t it?  


If he wanted his wife, he’d be waking up to a rather cruel reality…  


Sanji pulled the makeshift compress from Zoro’s face, revealing the spreading bruise once more, and he reached out instead with his hand, this time to smack the guy lightly against his opposite cheek again.  


“Hey. Alright, shithead, it’s time to get up now.”  


And to Sanji’s reluctant relief, he received a reaction, Zoro’s features tensing uncomfortably for a second.  


“Come on, come on, come on, come on,” the cook muttered impatiently, slapping him more until he got a flicker of eyelids and another groan, finally sitting back with a huff when the man began to open his eyes properly.  


He whipped out his phone, texted a quick, _‘Alright he’s awake,’_ to his sister to keep her at bay before pocketing the device and focusing his attention right back on the recovering oaf.  


Zoro was blinking up at the ceiling, a look of confusion on his dumb face, brow twitching and lips parting before he seemed to realize his jaw hurt, the man bringing a hand up to brush fingers over the bruise gingerly as he experimentally opened his mouth and worked it a bit.  


_“Th’fuck?”_ he slurred out, seemingly to himself, until he tilted his head on the pillow and finally laid eyes on the blond kneeling beside him.  


At first, he couldn’t seem to focus on him, eyes narrowing and blinking a few times blearily.  


But then, Sanji saw the moment of recognition when those dark eyes seemed to clear and target him intensely.  


_“You---”_ Zoro growled, shoving himself up to his elbows, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness that nearly sent him crashing back into the pillow again with a hiss of breath and a wince.  


“You fucking _asshole---!”_ he still managed to spit out. Though, in this state, it only served to make Sanji roll his eyes.  


“Alright, enough of this!” Sanji said. “You really still wanna fight me? Idiot…”  


Zoro just growled again, stubbornly pushing himself up to lean heavily on one elbow at least so he could look at the blond straight.  


“Shut up! You’re the one who----” He paused, seeming to fumble for the details of what had happened. It was probably still fuzzy in his mind. But he eventually settled on grunting out, _“You_ did this!”  


The cook actually gave a short bark of laughter. Man, did the guy ever look stupid. Not so big and tough anymore. And now that he no longer had to worry about having _killed_ the man, Sanji felt rather smug.  


“How many fingers am I holding up?” he decided to ask, holding three in front of Zoro’s scowling face.  


Zoro focused on them for a second, looked a little puzzled, then shook his head angrily and bit out, “Three! Get your hand out of my face!” before smacking said hand away.  


Well, he seemed to be functioning normally, if _insanely,_ Sanji deduced, so he pulled his hand away and crossed arms over his chest. While he was feeling so self-righteous, he figured he’d at least try and be the bigger person, despite how the man had treated him.  


“Look, I’m sorry I kicked you and knocked you out so easily,” he said, ignoring the snarl that pulled at Zoro’s lips. “I suppose it was for the best though because I saved you from doing anything crazy that you’d regret.”  


“You’re not sorry at all!” Zoro retorted, to which Sanji merely shrugged quite infuriatingly. “Who says I would have _regretted_ anything I did to you!”  


Sanji rose a brow, a little wry smile actually pulling his lips up. This was the moment, he’d decided. The moment he was going to get the upper hand on this guy once and for all, even if Zoro had information about him.  


“You think I don’t know shit about you, Zoro Roronoa?” the blond said, leaning forward teasingly and drawing out the man’s name slowly, just for fun. For all the effort he’d made to keep himself far from his brothers’ criminal activity, he could still be cunning when he wanted to be.  


And it seemed to have worked at catching the man off-guard because Zoro stammered for a second, fixing Sanji with suspicion.  


“What...?” he uttered cautiously.  


“Google, motherfucker!” Sanji crowed cockily, still milking the current leverage he had on Zoro.  


The blond’s eyes bored directly into Zoro’s. He wasn’t afraid of this guy, no matter what his history was.  


And it was a small victory to see the anger melt completely off Zoro’s face, replaced with utter shock, and then dread, see his shoulders slump and the breath shudder out of him.  


He tried to put the mask back on, to let the rage rise to his features again, but he wasn’t quick enough.  


Sanji had struck a chord, swept the rug out from under Zoro just as the idiot had with him earlier. But Sanji was convinced that what he knew about Zoro was far worse.  


“Yeah, I know everything,” he clarified, his voice hushed, but no less threatening. “That you were in Impel Down yourself? After what you did to your _wife---”_  


_“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”_ Zoro roared suddenly, bolting straight upright on the couch and shooting a hand out to fist in Sanji’s shirt, giving him a violent shake. “Don’t say a fucking _word_ about her---!”  


“Then you leave _my_ associations out of this too!” Sanji shot right back, having prepared himself for that reaction. “People I want _nothing_ to do with, _have_ nothing to do with, and haven’t for a while!”  


The cook reached up to forcibly yank Zoro’s hand off his shirt, quickly getting to his feet where he knew the man couldn’t follow him, judging by how wobbly he’d been just a minute earlier.  


“Don’t tell me to stay away from Tana when _you’re_ the one who’s making her life miserable! Not me!” he huffed out, glaring down at the man.  


Zoro’s face was wrought with a mixture of rage and torment. Sanji could see it in his eyes as he struggled to grapple with his battling emotions, something the brute apparently wasn’t too good at.  


“You don’t know a damn thing about us!” Zoro eventually settled on gritting out. “You don’t know a fucking thing about what we’ve---”  


But Sanji was back with another smooth counter.  


“I know she thinks she can’t talk to you!” he declared. “That you’re keeping her from doing something she _loves!_ That her mom would think it’s stupi---”  


“You have no _idea_ what she would think---!”  


Again, Zoro’s fury nearly drove him up to grab the other man, but Sanji danced back, leaving him to stagger unsteadily again, still seated, catching a hand on the couch before he could flop right over onto it.  


“Those are your daughter’s words, not mine!” Sanji replied bitterly, the look he fixed on Zoro one of burgeoning disgust and contempt now, his own frustrations with the other man’s behavior beginning to poke through.  


_“Fucking_ hell,” the cook huffed, running a hand back through his hair. He hadn’t planned on bringing his own shit into this, but if nothing would make the man see reason...  


“I know what it’s like to lose my parents!” Sanji seethed through gritted teeth. “One to corruption and _neglect, just_ like this, and fucking sue me, go ahead, but I _can’t_ stand to watch another kid go through that!”  


The blond’s chest heaved with hard breaths, his own temper getting the best of him as he had to actively force himself not to grab Zoro in turn, not to get violent again. He was trying to prove a point here, and to do that, it would do no good to fall prey to the same behavior he despised.  


Zoro had gone quiet again anyway, seemingly lost in troubled thought, hands planted firmly and clenched slightly around the couch cushions.  


“What did you tell her,” he asked, and it was less a question than a statement, one that seemed sure Sanji _had_ told her something, and for that, the cook was confused.  


What would he tell Tana? About his own past? And even if he had, why would it matter? He couldn’t change it, and it was nothing he was particularly ashamed of anymore, even if it was still a source of contempt for him.  


“Did you say anything to Tana about what you found out about me,” Zoro clarified when Sanji didn’t answer, bringing a heavy gaze up to meet the blond’s.  


Zoro’s second inquiry surprised him. Obviously, he wouldn’t have brought it up first with her. It was a sensitive topic, clearly, and he never wanted to dredge up painful memories for the girl.  


“No. I didn’t,” Sanji answered, as if the answer should be obvious. “Why would….?”  


Why would Zoro be so defensive? Why would he be so worried, so on edge, as if Sanji could shatter his life’s existence with his answer?  


His heart knocked hard in his chest, especially when he saw the look of utter relief that slumped Zoro’s shoulders, dropped his head, and shut his eyes as he reveled in it.  


It was almost as if he’d been afraid of Tana finding…..out…...anything…..  


Sanji felt a sickening wave of shock and horror twist at his insides powerfully because he realized.  


_“She doesn’t know, does she,”_ he breathed, voice barely audible, and his eyes wide, almost with awe that such a thing could be true.  


But when he noted the way Zoro brought a hand up to cover his mouth, looked steadily away guiltily, absolute burning rage filled him.  


“She doesn’t know what you did! What the _fuck!_ Are you _kidding me?!”_ he shouted, looking to the man for any sign he was wrong, but Zoro gave none.  


In fact, the ex-swordsman just clenched his teeth and turned his head away, glaring at the wall and letting out a low snarl.  


“Look!” Zoro finally burst out, whipping his head back up to glower at the blond, ignoring how the room seemed to undulate with the movement. “I don’t need anyone else fucking judging me and getting on my case about this shit!”  


Breaths panted out of him, the man squeezing eyes shut briefly and shaking his head before the fire returned to his gaze.  


“I know!” he admitted. “I _know_ it’s shitty of me, but what the _fuck_ does anyone expect me to do! I’m trying to protect her! You try telling your daughter that she lost her mom because of you! _You_ try telling her that because of _stupid_ mistakes her dad made, her mom is _gone,_ and she wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for that!”  


His voice shook at the end with emotion, and he snapped his jaw shut, bringing a hand to his forehead as he gave a shuddering exhale.  


The cook didn’t fight back. He didn’t understand any of this. What Zoro said did illustrate how difficult of a situation it was, but to him, it would be a no-brainer. If something this big, this insane happened in his life, of course he would tell his child the truth. Maybe that was easier said than done, but no. He’d seen firsthand what lying, what concealing the truth did to families, did to _children._  


Still, watching the man break down in front of him wasn’t an easy thing to do. This was the second time he’d ever even seen the guy in his life, and yet he hadn’t had an interaction this intense in a long-ass time.  


It was clear Zoro was in immense pain over this, pain that would probably never go away.  


Sanji was still angry. Still angry and _disappointed_ that _this_ was how Zoro had chosen to deal with everything. But he was coming to realize, however reluctantly, that these were not the actions of a malicious person. From the start, nothing that Zoro had done had been with malicious intent, surely.  


This was a man who clearly loved his daughter, wanted to _protect_ her, as he’d insisted, but didn’t know how. At least not on his own...  


“Your sentence said involuntary manslaughter,” Sanji murmured after a long bout of tense silence.  


Zoro didn’t answer, just buried his face in both hands.  


“So it was an accident,” Sanji continued anyway.  


A few harsh breaths left Zoro, and Sanji saw his shoulders jerk as if fighting back sobs.  


_“Of course it was…”_ Zoro finally let out in a shuddering whisper, not looking up. _“But I still---”_  


“So you should _stop_ fucking beating yourself up over it,” Sanji interrupted quietly. “That’s the whole damn root of this.”  


Again, Zoro said nothing, and Sanji thought he could see, now, where Tana got a lot of her traits, certainly her stubbornness….and her desire to run from her problems, though he didn’t necessarily fault her for that when she lacked any proper support system.  


Still, the cook kept his voice gentle, and he wasn’t sure why. Zoro had still come here and tried to make his life hell. He still didn’t trust the guy, and he was still resentful of the man for how he treated his daughter, regardless of what had happened.  


But here he was with the stupid need to comfort such a fool.  


“You were in Impel Down,” Sanji said. “Did you know my brothers? Is that how you heard about them?”  


Zoro slowly lowered his hands, brought them to his lap and leaned forward heavily over his knees.  


“No….” he muttered, shaking his head and avoiding eye contact with the blond. “I saw them once in passing, but I didn’t know who they were at the time.”  


“Did you Google me too then?” the cook pressed. “Have we both fallen down this shitty rabbit hole?”  


“No, I…...heard it at work,” Zoro mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut for a second and pinching the bridge of his nose.  


It seemed, like a child, the man was done giving proper answers, and it was beginning to annoy Sanji. He heard it at _work?_ Who the hell knew about him and his family at Zoro’s _work?_ He supposed the story of his brothers’ bust had made headline news at the time, as much as he didn’t want to think about it.  


“Fine, but _Pudding,”_ he grit out next. “How did you know about her?” _That_ was definitely a private matter.  


“Also at work.”  


“And where the _fuck_ do you work?” Sanji replied, agitation rising. “With some fucking gossip sleuth?”  


_“Alright,_ can we stop with the fucking interrogation?” Zoro heaved out, still with fingers at his nose and eyes firmly shut, teeth baring in a grimace.  


Sanji swallowed, hands twitching at his side irritably, and he found himself hankering for a cigarette. But dammit, the box in his shirt pocket was now empty, and his spares were clear across the room in a cupboard. He clenched his hands into fists instead, nails digging into his palms.  


“Look. You’re right,” he conceded hotly. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. And I don’t give two shits about how you choose to fuck up your own life.”  


He didn’t. No, for all it was worth, his mind was soundly fixed on Tana, and Tana alone, who didn’t know the truth behind her own mother’s death. Who probably, as a result, didn’t know why her dad had landed in prison for a year so soon after she lost her mother. It all made _sense;_ it all made fucking heartbreaking sense why her bitterness toward her father had seemed so confused above all else. She didn’t want to hate him...but she didn’t understand why he had changed.  


“Your daughter does not deserve this,” Sanji implored, hoping it got through the guy’s thick head of algae, unaware that he wasn’t the first to tell Zoro this. “And if you won’t tell her the truth, maybe someone _else_ ought to!”  


_“No!”_ Zoro’s head shot up with a piercing glare. It seemed he knew exactly what Sanji was implying. “I meant what I said before! I want you out of our lives---you won’t tell my daughter a damn thing!”  


Again, his voice faltered at the end, but Sanji wasn’t letting up.  


“Then _you_ do it, you shitty coward! She’s your _daughter!”_ he cried, blue eyes boring into the man icily.  


Zoro’s face had paled, and he seemed to be trembling slightly, staring hard at a spot on the opposite wall.  


“Do you love her?” Sanji asked, because he needed to hear it for himself.  


Zoro didn’t reply, however, just gave a few pained blinks, his hand shaking when he brought it to the back of his neck.  


“Answer me!” Sanji insisted. “Do you love her?”  


“Of course I do!” Zoro hissed out, a little breathlessly. “She’s all I have left.”  


“Then show her you’re strong!” the cook urged, glad for Zoro’s answer, but even more frustrated that Zoro’s love seemed to be blinding him. _“Do_ this! She’s gonna be hurt, she’s gonna be confused, but if she loves you too, which I think she _does,_ then you can sort this shit out! Together!”  


He didn’t receive the reaction he’d been expecting, however. Instead, Zoro had squeezed his eyes shut again, appeared to sway a bit on the spot, head dropped towards the floor, no longer focused on Sanji at all, it seemed.  


“Are you listening?” Sanji huffed in annoyance, not wanting to be flat-out ignored at a time like this. When he was fucking pouring his heart and soul into an argument he cared passionately about. “Hey!”  


But then, he heard a few quick, sharp breaths leave the man, saw his shoulders give a shudder. And then he began to lean forward, too far forward, and Sanji realized just in time that the man was passing out.  


He caught him, before he could careen headfirst into the floor, Zoro’s chest slumping against him and his face pressing into the blond’s shoulder.  


_“You idiot,”_ Sanji grunted under the man’s weight, shifting him back until he could get him laid out on the couch again.  


At least the man hadn’t puked all over or anything, but Sanji wasn’t thrilled about this situation, about having him here _all night,_ which it sure seemed he would now that he realized how late it was...and how immobilized Zoro was.  


He watched him for a few seconds, but it seemed he was truly out cold again.  


“Just when I was _trying_ to get shit through to you,” he muttered, shaking his head.  


Well, it was no use. He’d have to deal with another unexpected guest on his couch, this one far less welcome than the first.  


He was not about to change the guy out of his jacket and jeans, but he did not want dirty shoes on his couch, so, with some hesitation and mild disgust, he pulled off Zoro’s sneakers and quickly tossed them aside as if they were contaminated.  


Then he pulled the same blanket he’d let Tana use off the back of the couch, having never properly put it away, and draped it over him.  


He stared at his handiwork, watched the man’s light breathing, then shook his head and decided that was all he would do. He was exhausted himself and was eager to turn in for the night, even if he felt dissatisfied with the conclusion of their argument.  


Zoro had said he wanted Sanji out of his life.  


But with how things were going, Sanji was starting to think that this, like so many other things, was something easier said than done.  


* * *

It was nine thirty in the morning, and Tana sat at the table in Oliver’s kitchen, eating a stack of pancakes that she somewhat snootily noted to herself were nowhere near as good as Sanji’s had been.  


But she was never going to complain about that. After all, Oliver’s dad wasn’t a cook. In fact, he was more preoccupied with making a house out of the waffles he’d also prepared, Oliver right there with him building his own, requesting he pass a toothpick or more syrup every now and again.  


Tana and Thomas, sat across from each other, shared a short exasperated look and opted to eat their breakfast like normal humans, along with Robin, though she looked rightly amused with her son and husband’s antics.  


It was a nice morning, a nice way to wake up and one that was no longer a common occurrence in her life. A lively, homey atmosphere full of conversation and loving gestures.  


It was nice being here, in the midst of all of it. Oliver and Thomas and their parents were practically family anyway, and she loved them, but….  


She selfishly knew it wasn’t what she wanted.  


No, what she truly wanted was impossible to get back.  


She wanted her dad’s terrible burnt excuses for scrambled eggs and bacon. She wanted her mom there, making fun of him and then grudgingly allowing them to go out for breakfast instead.  


She wanted to run morning katas with them, to try and make her dad laugh when he sat meditating, and for her mom to do her best to wrangle her short hair up into a bun, even if she used a million bobby pins and they pulled a little.  


She wanted her dad to grab her from behind as she grumpily shuffled her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth. He’d pull her in and tickle her just to get her to smile, and despite her protests, she’d always been in a better mood for it.  


He’d kiss the top of her head as she headed out the door first, stopping her mom from following after with a firm kiss to her lips and a teasing warning of, “Don’t get lost.”  


Her dad would watch them head out the door with a dopey lovestruck grin on his face, and her mom would have one too all the way out to the car, despite her best efforts to conceal it.  


It was so grossly romantic, and Tana had always been quick to voice her disgust.  


But now she’d give anything. Anything to have that back, even if just for a day.  


“Tana?…..Tana.”  


She gave a slight start, blinking owlishly around at the table until she noticed Oliver’s mom looking at her with a curious smile on her face.  


“Are you alright?” she asked, and Tana quickly nodded.  


“Yeah, sorry. Spacin’ out,” the girl replied, going back to stabbing at her pancakes.  


“I asked if you’d heard from your father,” Robin repeated gently, sipping at her coffee.  


Tana shook her head, resisting the urge to look sulky about it. She didn’t even know why she felt like pouting whenever this happened. Would she _rather_ be with her dad, when they didn’t even really talk?  


“Can I check my phone…?” she politely asked Robin, who nodded.  


So she pulled it from her pocket and was surprised to see she had an unread text.  


But it wasn’t from her dad. It was from none other than _Sanji._  


Quickly, she opened it, a little perplexed to see it read, _‘Hey. Where are you?’_  


What? Why would he want to know that?  


“Is that your father?” Robin asked, noting the slight furrow that pulled at Tana’s brows.  


Again, Tana shook her head.  


“No, it’s….um, it’s the guy that helped me out the other day…”  


She quickly typed a reply of, _‘at oliver’s why?’_  


“Oh, that’s interesting~” Robin replied, an eyebrow rising knowingly. If her husband hadn’t been so preoccupied with playing with his food, the sentiment might have been shared with him.  


After all, the night before, they’d had a discussion about just _why_ Zoro had to “stay late at work”...  


It wasn’t long before Tana’s phone pinged with another notification, a reply from the cook which read, to her surprise, _‘I’m gonna come get you and take you home.’_  


Again, she frowned, wondering if she was forgetting some part of a conversation they’d had yesterday. But she couldn’t recall saying she’d needed a ride beyond then.  


_‘Ok but my dad’s gonna be pissed. he’s supposed to come,’_ she wrote back tentatively, though part of her was actually a little thrilled Sanji had offered. She hadn’t expected to hear from him.  


Of course, his next response was absolutely not what she was expecting, and the comical drop of her jaw was enough to have both Robin and Thomas looking back at her inquisitively.  


“What did he say?” Robin asked with a light chuckle.  


“Umm…” Tana stuttered, once again at a bit of a loss for words. “He’s gonna….pick me up soon….” she eventually settled for.  


Any surprise Robin might have shown was forsaken by the casual way she rested her chin on her palm.  


“Is your father perhaps with him~?” she queried.  


Tana’s eyes narrowed inadvertently, gaze still fixed on the chat window with Sanji.  


“Yeah,” she replied slowly, feeling a little uneasy considering everything Robin was guessing correctly about an already weird text. “Sanji said he....gave Dad a concussion?”  


Robin’s eyes lit up in a strangely delighted manner.  


“Oh my~” she said, looking truly pleased for some odd reason. “Then I’m eager to meet him~”


	6. Opening

_He saw her, smiling at him, almost taunting him as she skirted back on the mats, looking like a fucking warrior goddess in his eyes, Wado held fiercely in front of her._

_“What’s the matter, Zoro?” she teased, flicking hair from her eyes, only slightly out of breath for all the exertion they’d been putting forth. “If you beat me, you can have all the booze you want~”_

_Like he didn’t know that was incentive enough._

_He smirked, twisting his body and swinging both of his swords in a wide arc, looking to catch Wado with one of them, wrench the sword from her hands._

_The blades clashed. He felt her power straining against his, both of them with exhilarated grins on their faces._

_It was a sweltering summer day, hot enough that condensation was dripping down from the ceiling in places onto the mats, but that didn’t deter either of them. They moved swiftly together, almost in a practiced dance, only the subtle movement of their eyes, a flick of the wrist indicating their next move._

_She was so beautiful, and he remembered every detail, the curve of her lips, the tiny dimple on her left cheek. He remembered how that one strand of hair would never quite lie flat in her short ponytail, how her breath felt against his lips, and the feel of her hips beneath his palms._

_He remembered the sweat that shone on her forehead in a perfect sheen that day, how impatient he was to end this little argument so he could shove her up against the nearest wall and kiss her within an inch of her life._

_He remembered his heart, thundering in his ears, coursing hot blood, only now it was on his hands, and the scene was changing, the world caving in on him, hovering over Kuina in a dark, endless space._

_There was blood on her lips, soaking her shirt, seeping between his fingers that desperately pressed against her stomach, trying to stop the unstoppable._

_He heard whispers, disembodied whispers all around him, saying terrible things, calling him a murderer, and he was screaming, protesting, willing everything to stop._

_Kuina was too, a horrible black liquid beginning to seep from her mouth, her eyes, and ears, until it began to consume her entirely. The tar-like substance sucked her in like quicksand, and in his effort to save her, he fell forward into it himself, elbows deep and thoroughly trapped._

_The cold seeped through his skin, seemed to chill his heart and breathing to a standstill, and he could feel her form slipping from his grasp._

_Something yanked him from behind powerfully, and pulled him back fast, freeing him from that dangerous seeping pit and slamming him back into a hard surface, cracking his head painfully._

_Kuina’s name was still on his lips, but he couldn’t voice it, his face feeling numb and his eyes playing tricks on him as he thought he saw her emerge from that bubbling liquid._

_It wasn’t a trick, though. Something was coming out, eerily spotlighted in the darkness, and what initially looked to be a human, coated in the black gunk, shot towards him suddenly. Or rather, the space, maybe even time itself, rushed far too quickly, blurred past him until he found himself face to face with the creature._

_He couldn’t see its face, only slight glimpses of pale skin as the goop crept slowly down, falling into its mouth when the creature opened it._

_More whispers, and he couldn’t escape, the sensation of something crawling up the back of his neck. This wasn’t Kuina anymore; he didn’t know **what** it was. _

_And that was when the creature let loose a shrill, high-pitched scream. It was a human scream, and yet not, something that spoke to no human emotion he knew and yet all of them at once._

_As it screamed, the creature morphed, the blackness undulating over its form as it shrank, smaller and smaller, until lying there, stuck in the tar and desperately trying to escape, was a tiny bird. Its wings saturated with the thick liquid, stuck to the ground, the bird thrashed to no avail, and he saw its panicked black eyes meet his as if begging for help._

_He didn’t move, not even when he heard his daughter crying, the sound filling that endless void and clenching around his heart._

_He couldn’t find her. He couldn’t move._

_He hadn’t wanted any of this to happen._

_He couldn’t move._

…

That sobbing echoed in Zoro’s ears long after he realized he was awake. His eyes were closed, but he was awake, somehow, despite the way his brain seemed to pound at the inside of his head, a phantom fist squeezing his heart until he felt it would burst. 

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to fall into that nightmare again, but he also didn’t want to face the reality of the tears that stubbornly leaked from his eyes, nor face the reality of where he was. 

Because little by little, details came back to him, including whose apartment he was in, _again_ , a place he apparently hadn’t left after last night. 

What had even happened? The last thing Zoro remembered was the blond bastard yelling at him for the same shit he’d heard time and time again. 

But there had been something about his words, about his tone, that had shaken him, affected him more than anyone else’s words ever had. Not since her.

He couldn’t explain it, but he hated it, hated himself for thinking, even for a split second….that Sanji had sounded like Kuina….

It wasn’t true. _No one_ was like her. No one would _ever_ be like her. 

He’d wanted Sanji to sound like her because he _needed_ her. Her words were the only ones that could get him out of this, that could save him, bring him back to sense. 

To associate anyone else with her would be insulting to her memory, to how much he still desperately loved her and longed for her. 

Zoro’s eyes blinked open, his gaze stony, as it often was upon waking, to find an unfamiliar ceiling above him, a white ceiling fan with two small black spheres hanging from the pull-chain switches. 

He was still on the couch, the one he’d found himself on last night, and he could feel his jaw practically pulsing with every beat of his heart. 

The back of his head stung too, and fuck if he _really_ didn’t hate that asshole Sanji for this. 

He was rusty as hell, clearly. His reaction time was off, having not seen combat for so long. 

That was his excuse, at least, for not dodging the hit, as he slowly sat up, groaning a bit in pain and shutting his eyes against the morning light that now only served to hurt them. 

However, no peace and quiet was afforded to him, as he smelled smoke and glanced to his right over the couch to see Sanji himself leaning against the counter in his kitchen, a mug of something hot steaming before him, his phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. 

“Oh, look who woke up,” Sanji muttered, not even looking at Zoro, his gaze glued to his phone, taking a casual puff from his cigarette. “Thought you died in your sleep, mosshead.”

“Shut up,” Zoro hissed, scratching at an arm absently, realizing he was still wearing his jacket. That was weird.

He heard Sanji suck his teeth disapprovingly, though he still didn’t look up. 

“Get yourself together,” he said. “We gotta go pick up Tana at Oliver’s.”

Something about hearing that phrase spoken aloud caused the ex-swordsman to visibly twitch a little in surprise. 

It was a phrase he’d heard so many times in the past. It was so commonplace that it wasn’t weird to him at first, until he thought about just who was saying it.

“How the fuck did you know she’s at Oliver’s….?” he asked tiredly, rubbing at his temples to try and clear his head. 

“Because I dropped her off there yesterday, dumbass,” Sanji shot back.

Oh. Right. _Dammit._

“Also because I just texted her and double checked.”

_“What?!”_

This time Zoro properly screeched, even though it made the room spin and a sickening feeling rise in his gut that took a few deep breaths to contain.

“Quit texting my kid! It’s weird!”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Sanji asked, unconcerned with Zoro’s protests as he sipped at his tea. “You were out cold. It’s close to ten, and someone had to make sure your daughter wasn’t starving to death somewhere, waiting for you to return.”

Zoro scoffed, unfortunately having no comeback to that because, deep down, he knew Sanji was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“I was going to offer you breakfast and shit out of the _goodness_ of my heart, but you overslept, so I wrapped you up a breakfast sandwich,” the blond said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder at a small brown paper bag sitting near the stove. “You can eat it on the way.”

Zoro blinked at the man, wondering if he was still dreaming. The guy had kicked his face in, and yelled at him for being a terrible person just the night before. But now he was making him breakfast? Caring about his kid? 

He had no idea what to make of any of this. 

“Tana’s gonna be confused as hell,” was the only retort he could manage after a full minute of wading through his muddled mind for something to say. _“I’m_ supposed to pick her up.”

“I know,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes. “But I told her you’re with me. I told her I knocked you out and we’re both coming to get her.”

“No, you didn’t,” Zoro muttered, narrowing his eyes skeptically at the man who surely wouldn’t have had the nerve to tell her the exact truth. “Even if you did, you think that would make her want to go with you? She’d be freaked out!”

This time, Sanji finally brought his gaze up to meet Zoro’s, a deadpan look upon his face.

He pushed up from the counter, set his cigarette in an ashtray, and crossed over to Zoro, flicking through his phone, then shoving it in the man’s face so he could see the current chat, particularly the last few messages.

 _‘Your dad’s with me,’_ Sanji’s read. _‘Sorry, but I gave him a concussion. I promise he’s okay though. We’ll explain when we pick you up.’_

And Tana’s reply of, _‘oh. weird. ok. when will u get here?’_

“You sure you know your kid?” Sanji asked, a hint of smugness to his tone upon seeing Zoro’s jaw drop indignantly. 

He pulled his phone away from Zoro’s gaping face, sticking it in his back pocket. 

But instead of walking away again, he hesitated, eyes falling to the left side of Zoro’s face. 

Zoro couldn’t see the bruise himself, but it felt pretty bad, not that he would let it bother him too much in the end, nor would he let this idiot know it bothered him. 

Before he could react, the man had brought fingers to the mark, stepping closer, the back of the couch between them, and turning Zoro’s head gently so he could get a better look. 

Zoro jerked, instinctively tried to yank his head away, but Sanji prevented him, meeting his gaze and imploring him to calm with a scolding, “Stop.”

Zoro did, if warily, watching the man like a skittish animal as those fingers trailed over the hot skin with a delicacy he hadn’t expected. 

“Does it hurt?” Sanji asked after a minute, taking his hand from Zoro’s cheek and moving it to his hair in order to check over the scrape back there with the same care. 

“No,” Zoro automatically replied, beginning to feel entirely uncomfortable with how close the blond was, how long he was taking to check his injuries. 

“You sure about that?” Sanji asked, and gave a slightly less gentle poke to the very edge of his bruise, causing Zoro to hiss with pain and let out a string of curses. 

Sanji chuckled, looking pleased with himself even as Zoro muttered, _“You bastard,”_ and glared at him spitefully.

“I really am sorry,” Sanji said, finally pulling back and relieving some of the fluster that had begun to come over Zoro. “But don’t jump me in the middle of the night, man! Unless you wanna live up to the whole thug image you seem so damn set on putting forth.”

“I’m not a thug,” Zoro grunted, brow drawn low in irritation, managing to do his best impression of one in the process. 

“Oh, don’t worry! I noticed!” Sanji replied with a shit-eating grin, and Zoro made a mental note to put the guy back in his place as soon as he was no longer concussed.

Of course, that would go against his previously expressed desire to have the man completely out of his life, but it seemed he wasn’t thinking about that currently.

“Look, get your jumbled brain focused, and let’s go pick her up. We might have to put a bag over your head though to hide your zombie bruise if you’re so concerned about her being freaked out.”

A teasing quirk of an eyebrow, then Sanji stepped away to return to the counter and his still burning cigarette. 

This left Zoro a moment to wonder just why the hell the blond was in such a damn chipper mood, and at his expense. It was pretty irritating, whatever the reason. 

And yet, however annoying, Sanji had managed to completely distract him from the remnants of that strange nightmare, and whether Zoro knew it or not, that was a small feat indeed.

* * *

Roughly ten minutes later, the pair of them had begun walking down the boardwalk in awkward silence, Zoro stalking beside Sanji with his shoulders slumped and his face half buried in the high collar of his jacket, looking like a sulky teenager on the way to school with that brown paper bag in his hand and his gym bag thrown over one shoulder. 

Sanji stole glances at him every now and again, looking for signs that the guy was going to topple over, but he seemed to be walking in a relatively straight line, aside from drifting off track a few times. 

He’d had some time to think, during Zoro’s second bout of unconsciousness, and particularly after he’d messaged Tana. And his thoughts were telling him to listen to his instincts, to the instinct that was telling him to follow through with what he’d started. 

He knew this guy’s story now. Vaguely, but he had some inkling at least. And he was beginning to know his daughter too. And to say he wasn’t invested would be a lie. 

He wanted to help Tana, to make sure, now more than ever, especially after learning how little _she_ knew, that she was okay, that Zoro wasn’t going to fuck things up for her any further. 

Did he think Zoro was a good guy? 

Well, he couldn’t _exactly_ say, considering the extent of his encounters with the man had involved lots of yelling and all-around agitation.

But the man seemed truly lost, and honestly, he saw a bit of himself there.

Just a _little._ Not enough to _completely_ sympathize with the idiot, but certainly enough to make him hesitate to abandon this cause altogether. 

They’d both lost love, under different circumstances, but it had _happened,_ and it was clear to Sanji who had dealt with it better. It actually made the cook feel better about himself in a way, to think that he’d been able to move on as he had, that the dreams had stopped coming over time, and his heart didn’t ache _quite_ as much. 

It still hurt to think of what he’d had, even if it had been a farce. But if he didn’t think about it, maybe he was actually okay, back to normal even. 

Unless, ultimately, all “normal” consisted of was concealment of such feelings.

They’d made it to the garage before he’d realized it, thankfully losing himself in his thoughts so he didn’t have to endure the mosshead’s awkwardness. 

Sanji pulled out his keys and unlocked the car, jerking his chin towards it when the guy just kind of stood there like he didn’t know what to do.

“What, never seen a car before?” he said drily, heading for the driver’s side. “Go on, get in.”

He saw Zoro let out a huff of breath and shoot him a glare before shuffling to the other side and opening the door, tossing his bag in the back before climbing in.

By the time Sanji was settled in his seat with Zoro sitting next to him stiffly, the tension in the atmosphere seemed to have mounted, thanks to the small space and the quiet.

Sanji quickly buckled up and started the car to at least get a noise running in the background. 

“Radio?” he decided to ask, balking somewhat when Zoro shook his head.

Great. More silence. 

With nothing else left to do, Sanji set to backing the car slowly out of the garage onto the tiny side street that led to the pier’s larger parking lot.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Zoro asked.

“Yes. I was just there yesterday. Says the guy who gets lost everywhere he goes,” Sanji muttered, leaning forward in his seat to see around the corner of the buildings before turning carefully out into the parking lot where he could circle freely to the main road.

“What! No, I don’t!” Zoro yelped, and Sanji smirked.

“That’s not what Tana said…”

“Urgh,” Zoro growled, turning his head to stare at the blond angrily. “Since you two are _so damn close_ , listen. If you fucking tell her _anything_ you found out about me, I swear to _fuck,_ I will---”

“Relax, shithead. As much as I want to, that’s _your_ job,” Sanji muttered, flipping on his turn signal and rolling to a halt at the stop sign, then accelerating as he pulled out. 

“Do you _promise?”_ Zoro implored, causing Sanji to chuckle, especially when he glanced over to see the somewhat pleading way Zoro was looking at him.

“I _pinky_ promise,” he teased, and laughed out loud, seeing the horrifically embarrassed look that came over the other man’s face.

 _“Yes,_ I promise,” the cook clarified more seriously, once he’d gotten over his amusement. “But only if _you_ promise to tell her the _truth.”_

“I can’t just---” Zoro immediately protested, to which Sanji rolled his eyes dramatically, tired of listening to the man’s excuses, even if they were fueled by fear. “I’ve gotta work up to it…..find the right time.”

“Then fine. Do that. But _tell her._ Preferably before she turns fifty. I’m not gonna sit here and argue it with you again,” Sanji huffed, judging traffic down Jaya Street before deciding to take that route uptown. 

Zoro fell quiet for a minute, most likely sulking again, eyes fixed on the ever-growing buildings, the closer they got to the city center. 

“You don’t have kids,” Sanji eventually heard him mutter, the cook shaking his head in response. 

“I don’t,” he said.

“Then _why should I be taking your advice again?”_ Zoro gritted out pointedly.

Sanji felt annoyance rising within him again. This asshole sure liked to push buttons, crack open undesirable conversation topics.

“Because I _was that kid,”_ Sanji grumbled in reply, not really wanting to delve into this again, but if Zoro was too dense to see reason through any other lens, then he supposed he’d have to. “I know how Tana feels because I went through the _same_ shit with _my_ dad after my mother’s death. But he never turned himself around. And we didn’t speak from the time I was sixteen until he died.”

Zoro shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Sanji figured he’d effectively scared the man speechless, judging by the way he lifted a hand to drag over his mouth, a habit Sanji was beginning to recognize as a nervous one. 

“I’m not saying that will happen to you,” he decided to appease, his voice a little softer. “I don’t _want_ it to. That’s why I’m trying to _help_ you.”

This time, Zoro looked back over at him, with a look on his face that couldn’t _quite_ disguise the hopefulness in his eyes.

Sanji resisted the urge to feel smug again, not when the man truly did seem emotionally compromised. 

He thought he could feel Zoro working up to a question anyway, so he distracted himself in the silence by changing lanes.

“So you and your brothers….all the shady business….you’re really _not_ involved with that?” Zoro eventually asked, somewhat tentatively. 

“No,” Sanji asserted. “I’m not a thug.”

Shooting Zoro’s own words back at him, he looked over with a smirk, and was actually a little surprised when Zoro blinked at him…..then rolled his eyes and tried to conceal a smirk of his own. 

The cook beamed triumphantly and brought eyes back to the road.

He took the small surge in confidence as an opportunity to reveal a bit more about himself while he was at it.

“I’m actually the one who turned my brothers in to the police,” he said.

“What?” Zoro stuttered, brows raising. “Seriously?”

“Yup,” Sanji said with a self-assured nod, twisting hands on the steering wheel absently. 

Why did this suddenly feel so good to get off his chest? He almost felt free of judgment, telling it to someone with a tainted past of his own. 

“They’d been selling illegal anabolic steroids to athletes on the black market,” he continued. “Not without help from some other….I guess _dubious_ characters. But when they tried to pull me into it, that was the last straw.”

That last part, of course, wasn’t the whole truth. It wasn’t the _whole_ reason he’d decided to turn them in. But that was where things got personal, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal those details to a near stranger. 

Zoro didn’t reply right away, but Sanji gauged it was more to give himself processing time, the mosshead’s brow furrowed in thought. 

Sanji took it upon himself to fill the moment with another question that had been niggling at the back of his mind since Zoro brought it up last night. 

“Where do you work anyway?” he asked. “Don’t tell me _you’re_ a cop.”

He didn’t think that was possible, given Zoro’s history, though the irony would be rich.

“Not a cop, trust me,” Zoro scoffed in reply, sounding entirely put off by the idea. He hesitated a second, let eyes flick to Sanji before eventually answering, “Rain Dinners. You know the big casino over in Rainbase? I’m the owner’s bodyguard….”

 _“Crocodile?”_ Sanji spluttered, nearly slamming on the brakes in his surprise. “You work for Crocodile?”

“You _know_ Crocodile?” Zoro replied, just as surprised. 

“Well, not _personally,_ but that was always a huge name that floated around my brothers,” Sanji explained, shaking his head. Then it was his turn to shoot a somewhat wary glance over at Zoro. “Do you just work for him, or do you really…. _work_ for him….?”

“No. No, I’m not part of his shit,” Zoro assured quickly. “I couldn’t…..I mean, after the whole Impel Down thing, it was just the first opportunity….”

“Okay.”

Sanji nodded, understanding, and hoping the man was telling the truth, though he had a feeling he was, especially when Zoro muttered, “Oliver---you know the kid Tana’s friends with---his mom actually set me up with the job.”

“His mom?” Sanji muttered, shaking his head slightly as he drove, now wondering just how many more weird connections would become apparent before the day was up.

“Yeah,” Zoro replied. “Long story…”

And then the conversation trailed off, neither seeming to know what to say next. 

Sanji didn’t want the quiet because that meant he’d have to think, again, about how weird these circumstances were, how strange it was to be sitting here, relatively civilly, in his car with the guy he’d just ranted to Ace about not two days ago. 

It would probably be another ten minutes, given traffic, until they reached the Water 7 neighborhood where Oliver lived. 

Zoro seemed to be feeling the awkwardness too, squirming a bit in his seat and crinkling the paper bag still in his grasp to fill the silence, his gaze fixed firmly out the window. 

Sanji looked over at him, once, then twice, before he let out a small sigh and stalled, “So…..you seem kinda young to have a kid in middle school.” After all, they were the same age, right?

Zoro glanced at Sanji briefly, then ran a hand over his mouth and shifted, staring straight ahead instead of to the side.

“I guess…” he replied. He’d certainly felt it when Tana was in elementary school, and most of the other parents had a good ten plus years on him. “I was nineteen. Um….yeah….”

Zoro ended it there, and Sanji had to smirk a little at the man’s embarrassment, as if they weren’t both adults here.

“I’m not judging,” Sanji assured, slowing the car to a stop when they came to a red light. “I just....can’t imagine it for myself, is all.”

“Yeah, well….” Zoro mumbled, and the cook began to sense him drifting again. Perhaps it was the wrong thing to mention as it most likely brought up memories of the guy’s wife. 

“Tana’s a good kid, anyhow,” Sanji decided to say, hoping a compliment might help matters. But he couldn’t resist adding a cheeky, “Though I see where she gets her stubbornness from.”

Zoro just rolled his eyes and scoffed quietly. 

“I know she is,” he replied, apparently choosing to ignore the second part. “She’s too good to be stuck with _me…”_

“Well, then here’s a novel idea,” Sanji proposed, growing sick of the man’s melodramatics. “Maybe you should do something about that, hmm?” 

Again, Zoro didn’t respond, simply looked unsure. And it was annoying to Sanji’s core to see someone who could and _should_ change his situation look so damn insecure about it. For all the tough fronts Zoro put forth, the guy underneath sure was ineffectual. 

_“Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea, Sanji!”_ the cook eventually muttered to himself in a gruff imitation of Zoro’s voice. _“I don’t know you, but seeing as you’ve done so much for me already, I think I’ll definitely listen to you---”_

“Shut up!” Zoro growled, realizing what Sanji was doing, and the cook found himself glad to see a spark of life return to the man’s eyes. 

_“I say shut up because I don’t want to admit to myself and others that he’s right, but boy, is he ever!”_ Sanji continued, rather enjoying this now. _“And I bet if I ate this food that he took time to make this morning, his powers of greatness would transfer to me and---”_

“I’ll fucking throw you out of this car, you bastard!” Zoro screeched, but it only served to make Sanji laugh.

* * *

“Oh~ I think I heard a car outside~” Robin mused with a smile, looking up from her book and glancing up at her husband and the kids, who were currently locked in an intense Just Dance battle across the room, led most enthusiastically by Franky.  


“Hang on, it’s almost the end of the song!” Oliver whined, desperately flailing arms to try and keep up with his dad, the forever holder of every high score in the game.  


But it was too late, because they’d already lost their two back-up dancers, Thomas and Tana, who hadn’t been doing much save for the occasional jump to the side or half-hearted wave of arms to the left anyway.  


Tana had scurried to her phone, which she’d left on the couch, picking it up to check for any texts, and Thomas had shuffled to the window, trying to peer out.  


“Mom, I don’t see a---”  


But the boy was interrupted by the soft chime of the doorbell a mere second later.  


“I’ll get it~” Robin announced, amidst the triumphant cries of her husband, and she got to her feet gracefully, exiting the room and making her way to the front door.  


Of course, with the scale of the side windows, she already caught a glimpse of the callers, a grumpy-looking Zoro, and a blond man….  


She reached the door, preferring to open it the old-fashioned way, instead of pressing the automatic button her husband had installed beside it. Best not to alarm their guest.  


“Good morning, Zoro~” she greeted as soon as she opened the door, only to give a small gasp upon seeing the large bruise decorating his jaw.  


“It’s my fault!” the blond stranger quickly jumped in. “It’s kind of a----”  


“Oh, it’s quite alright,” she assured, chuckling lightly, and she reached out to touch the mark gently.  


“It’s _not_ alright!” Zoro yelped in reply, but Robin just smiled.  


“Introduce me to your new friend~” the woman said, to which Zoro immediately protested, “He’s not my---!”  


“Sanji Vinsmoke,” the blond, dressed rather smartly in a pair of nice slacks and a dress shirt, layered beneath a maroon sweater, interrupted, stepping forward to offer a hand out to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m---”  


“I heard the story,” she replied, swiftly taking his hand and giving it a firm shake, a very perceptive glint in her eye. “Robin Nico. Thank you for picking up my son yesterday~”  


“It was no problem,” he said with a brilliant smile, in stark contrast to the sullen look his companion wore beside him.  


“Please, come in~” Robin invited, stepping aside and gesturing to the interior of the house. “Zoro, you too. Would you like a drink? Perhaps some ice for that painful-looking bruise~”  


Sanji took the offer gladly, slipping hands in his pockets and striding into the house ahead of Zoro, not without giving a cheerful wiggle of eyebrows over his shoulder at the man, much to Zoro’s apparent annoyance, though he reluctantly followed after.  


As the blond stepped into the foyer, he glanced up at the towering ceilings, that mysterious stone tablet that stood out, even more impressively, up close.  


“This is a beautiful house,” he complimented, still rather fascinated as he took in his surroundings.  


“Thank you~” Robin replied, closing the door behind them. “My husband built it.”  


“That’s what your son said…” he murmured offhandedly, studying the strange inscriptions on the giant stone. “What is this?”  


Robin gave an enigmatic little smile, coming up beside him to admire the piece that rose above them, nearly to the ceiling.  


“It’s called a Road Poneglyph,” she explained. “There are four of them in the world, ancient tablets excavated in Brazil, close to Rio de Janeiro, that detail the location of a legendary island. They are currently owned by different collectors around the world, but my goal is to, one day, obtain them all~”  


“No kidding,” Sanji breathed in awe. “Must’ve cost a fortune….”  


“Yes,” Robin chuckled. “But seeing as I work for the National History Museum, I was able to pull a few strings~ Now, come. Tana’s already had breakfast with us, Zoro, no need to worry~”  


Robin urged the men onward, around the corner and down the hallway that wrapped around the house, lined by the tall glass panels on the side. This hallway opened, at the back of the house, into a large living room, the huge TV against the wall still looping the intro screen to the game they’d just been playing. Franky and the kids worked to drag the center coffee table back to its original place, having moved it to provide more space for gameplay.  


Franky looked up to see his wife entering and grinned, straightening and giving a wave of greeting when he noticed a stranger accompanying her.  


“This is Sanji Vinsmoke,” Robin introduced, then indicated those already in the room. “Sanji, this is my husband, Franky, our son, Thomas. You’ve met Oliver. And Tana, of course~”  


Sanji nodded his head and smiled too, quirking a brow at the mischievous grin Oliver shot him. He remembered how damn cheeky that kid was.  


But his introduction was interrupted as soon as Franky noticed Zoro’s face.  


“Whoa! Zoro-bro!” His eyes flicked to Sanji. “You really hit him that hard?”  


And for a second, it seemed the large man was appalled…...until he burst out laughing, which only served to make Zoro’s cheeks go beet red, his fists clenching at his side.  


Sanji decided that he _definitely_ liked these people already.  


“Tana, are you ready?” Zoro grumbled to his daughter, clearly not enjoying being fucking laughed at.  


“He’s only teasing,” Robin assured her friend with a hand to his chest.  


She turned her head to Tana, who’d already begun to gather her things, a hand rubbing at her mouth as she tried not to laugh as well.  


“There’s no need to rush~” she said to the girl.  


Sanji, meanwhile, had taken to looking around the spacious room, at the modern art on the walls, the comfortable C-shaped couch, and the curious steel box turned table in the center. Not to mention…  


“Something smells good,” he commented. “Pancakes and waffles?”  


“Hell yeah!” Franky affirmed, crossing the room so he could properly greet the adults, wincing a little when Robin gave him a scolding look for his coarse language in front of the children. “Made ‘em this morning.”  


“And is that….mizu meat bacon?”  


“Yup! We love it!”  


“Stop by the Baratie sometime,” Sanji said with a grin. “It’s our choice import~”  


“Wait, so you really work at the Baratie?” Zoro cut in, prompting everyone to turn and stare at him.  


This, of course, forced him to realize that he was indeed the last person in the room to recognize this. Again, his cheeks flooded red.  


“Yeah, what’d you think, that I just _happened_ to live in a private apartment there?” Sanji replied, barely restraining himself from using some choice words in the face of such an imbecile.  


“I don’t know…” Zoro mumbled foolishly, averting eyes and looking like he either wanted to kill the blond or disappear entirely.  


Sanji rolled his eyes subtly, then turned back to his hosts.  


“Anyway, speaking of which, I really would love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid I do have a shift to get back for later. Maybe another time?” he asked apologetically, lifting a half-smile to Robin especially.  


“Ah,” she replied. “That’s a shame. We’d love to get to know you better. And to learn how Zoro earned himself such a remarkable bruise~ Perhaps we will indeed come to the Baratie~”  


Saying this, she shot a sly little look Zoro’s way, even though the man was still sulking and thus not paying attention.  


“Please do,” Sanji said with a grin, then jerked his head to Tana, the girl standing a few paces away, muttering something to Oliver. “You ready, kid?” He stuck out a hand for her bag automatically when she stepped forward. “Here.” And he tossed it over his own shoulder.  


This won him a furrow of brows from Zoro, who seemed ready to say something before he snapped his jaw shut and decided otherwise. Though he still glared at Sanji with a small amount of, perhaps, jealousy.  


“We’ll show you to the door,” Robin said, skirting past the men and sharing a knowing glance with her husband.  


“See ya, guys,” Tana mumbled to Thomas and Oliver, who stayed behind as she and the adults began to make their way from the room.  


“See ya,” they both replied, Oliver bringing hands up to make a texting gesture, raising eyebrows pointedly at his friend and mouthing, _‘Later,’_ until she got the point, nodding with a smirk.  


The group made their way back through the house to the front door, Robin and Franky lingering in the door frame.  


“Thank you,” Tana said to her friends’ parents respectfully as she exited the house onto the front walkway, receiving a hair ruffle from Franky and a kind nod from Robin.  


“Always a pleasure~” Robin replied, her gaze turning to Sanji then, who she noticed touched a hand gently to Tana’s shoulder as the girl passed him, almost unconsciously.  


“It was great to meet both of you,” the cook said. “I mean it. I’ll for sure snag you a reservation at the restaurant any time you wanna come~”  


“To that, I say welcome to the crew!” Franky cheered, giving a thumbs up, Sanji smiling in return.  


“Zoro, do you work again tonight?” Robin asked, chuckling at her husband’s antics, to which Zoro nodded, hesitating a bit when he saw Tana look back at him out of the corner of his eye.  


“Yeah. But Tana’s goin’ to her grandpa’s.”  


“I am? Since when?” Tana shot back, eyes narrowing.  


“Perhaps a night off would do you well, especially after being injured,” Robin suggested, skillfully cutting in before tensions could mount.  


Tana was watching him expectantly, and so was Sanji now, enough to make Zoro clearly uncomfortable.  


He didn’t answer right away, just stammered a bit until he finally replied with a quiet, “Maybe…”  


It seemed to be enough to appease the strain of the moment, even though it was far from a definite answer.  


“Well, if ya need anything, bro, we’ll be around,” Franky assured, clapping a supportive hand onto Zoro’s shoulder.  


“Okay,” Zoro mumbled in reply. Then, with a hesitant glance at Sanji and Tana, swiveled on his heel in a not so subtle hint that he wanted to _go_ already.  


Sanji’s lips had pulled into a somewhat forced smile, but he fished his keys from his pocket and jerked his head in the direction of his car.  


“Thanks again,” he said to Robin and Franky before heading after the mosshead, walking beside Tana.  


“Why don’t you run and take shotgun,” he muttered to the girl as they went. “We’ll stuff your dad in the trunk---”  


“I heard that!” Zoro shrieked, glaring back at the blond, who merely cackled, Tana cracking a smile too.  


Robin and Franky watched the three go, Robin with a curious tilt to her head as she observed their parting interactions.  


Eventually, with some arguing, Tana did indeed manage to take the front seat, Zoro forced to stuff himself into the back, slamming the door irritably.  


“Vinsmoke, eh?” Franky murmured with some apprehension as he and Robin waved from the doorway. “You think he’s alright?”  


Robin nodded, watching the car come to life and head off down the street.  


“To handle Zoro? Absolutely~” she replied, and Franky had to chuckle at his wife’s certainty.  


He squeezed her shoulder and leaned down to kiss the top of her head.  


“‘Bout time,” he said.  


* * *

As soon as they’d begun driving away, Tana spun in her seat to face Sanji eagerly.  


“Alright, what the hell happened!” she asked, shooting a glance behind to try and look at her dad’s face again, though he now seemed intent on keeping the bruise out of sight.  


Sanji had to laugh, admittedly a little relieved Tana didn’t seem too put out by it all. Not yet, at least.  


“You’re not upset?” he asked with a sheepish grin.  


“Not _really._ Dad’s tough! He can take a hit. But what _happened?”_  


Eyes shot between both of them now, looking for _some_ explanation.  


Part of her was fearful for the answer, but for the non-obvious reasons.  


She _should_ have been upset with Sanji, especially considering he was apparently the one who’d inflicted the damage. But something inside her worried for why he had. What had her dad done….? And furthermore, how had they ended up in the same spot….?  


“Well, mosshead, you wanna tell her or should I?” Sanji asked, looking in the rearview mirror at Zoro, the man yet to say a word.  


He sat quietly, breaths coming a little heavily, his gaze downcast, and for a second, Sanji wondered if he was about to pass out with the way he rubbed at his temple. But no, he just looked to be warring with something in his mind, and it was affecting him outwardly.  


Sanji wanted to give him this chance, a sort of practice round at telling his daughter the truth.  


And for a second, the cook was hopeful he would.  


“I….” Zoro started, then shook his head with a frustrated growl and actually looked up at Sanji, silently pleading with him to explain.  


The cook resisted showing his disappointment. This was going to take a bit more work than he’d previously thought.  


“Well,” Sanji started slowly, fixing eyes on the road ahead. “I can only tell my side. But your dad showed up at the Baratie last night to talk to me. We got to talking and things got a little heated and….well, I lost my temper. And I kicked him in the face. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did, and I’m sorry.”  


There was a beat of silence, during which Tana processed the information, missing the intentional weight of Sanji’s words, the way he glanced back at Zoro ever so briefly.  


Of the scenarios she’d crafted in her head, it was pretty close to what she’d assumed. And something about Sanji’s tone told her he was seriously remorseful. Not to mention, for the second time in this car, she was struck with a sense of familiarity.  


How many times had her mom kicked her dad’s ass and left him to sulk…?  


She couldn’t keep thinking that way though, making comparisons, _noticing_ things. Eventually, it would prove to be too painful.  


“What were you talking about….?” she asked slowly.  


Sanji sighed, and Zoro remained quiet. So he answered again.  


“We both had some concerns about each other’s behavior when we first met,” he said carefully. “I mean, you remember how tense it was. We were probably due to set things right. A little too violently, but….well, what happened, happened.”  


Tana seemed to mull over his answer, almost judging if she trusted it or not, but while she knew how mouthy her dad could be if angered, at least he hadn’t hurt Sanji, and it seemed the cook could hold his own surprisingly.  


So she decided to let it go for now, in the interest of keeping things civil. Maybe she’d question her dad about it later….if he elected to stay home, that is. She couldn’t see him doing that, but if she went to her grandpa’s, well, maybe she’d have a chance of talking _him_ into taking her to the tournament, despite their phone conversation the other day.  


“Whatever,” she muttered. “You guys are weird.”  


Sanji just shrugged and smirked a little, glad she wasn’t going to pry right now.  


“Is anyone going to tell me where I’m driving to? I’m taking you home, right?” he asked, looking back in the mirror at Zoro, who seemed a little more relaxed than before, though not much.  


Tana sighed and quirked a brow Sanji’s way.  


“Don’t ask him,” she said. “Turn right up here.”  


And she actually had to hide a smile when she heard her dad screech an offended, “Hey!” from the backseat.  


Just like he used to.  


* * *

The rest of the ride passed calmly, by comparison, Sanji asking Tana innocent questions about what she’d gotten up to and every so often directing one back at Zoro, mostly trying to get the idiot involved in the conversation.  


Zoro didn’t say much, but he still entered with various indignant huffs or occasional protests whenever something was said that he didn’t approve of.  


Sanji supposed it was better than nothing, and Tana sure seemed to be a lot more content than the last time he’d seen them together, sometimes even giggling at her dad’s reactions.  


It almost hurt to see. As angry as Tana had been at her father the night he’d met her, it was obvious that what she wanted was his attention, and when she got it, even in the form of a scoff or a grumble, the smile that tugged at her lips was undeniable.  


As such, by the time Sanji pulled the car into the parking lot of their apartment building, the ride had passed rather pleasantly, certainly far more smoothly than their last interaction.  


He pulled into an empty parking space and turned to the two with a final huff of breath.  


“Well. There ya go,” he said, shifting in his seat so he could see both of them. “That’ll be twenty bucks.”  


“Shut up,” he heard Zoro mutter as the man fumbled to grab his things, opening his door already.  


Tana took a little more time, unbuckling her seatbelt but lingering a bit longer.  


_“Thank you,”_ she made a point of saying before she too opened her door and bent down to gather her bag that had been resting at her feet.  


And then, because her dad was currently preoccupied with his stuff, she leaned back into the car and whispered, _“And thanks for kicking my dad’s ass too~”_  


Sanji nearly let out a bark of laughter, but he stopped himself, slapping a palm over his mouth.  


“Hang on, one more thing,” he finally managed, reaching out a hand to brush fingertips on her arm before she could leave.  


Eyes flicked to Zoro briefly, and he lowered his voice.  


_“Be patient with him, okay?”_ he murmured, and her eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. _“He’s trying.”_  


She froze, mouth seeming to work for words for a second before she bit her lip and eventually nodded.  


_“Okay,”_ she breathed and he gave her arm a reassuring pat before releasing her just as Zoro stalked up behind and muttered, “Come on,” to his daughter.  


“You’re welcome, grasshead!” Sanji called out to him as Tana backed out of the car, eyes still on him.  


Zoro just rolled his eyes and huffed, “Yeah, yeah,” and gave a listless wave.  


Tana shut the door and followed him, leaving Sanji smirking to himself as he muttered, “Ungrateful asshole,” in return as he watched the two leave the sidewalk and head into the interior of the building.  


Before he pulled out though, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. And then, because he needed one, he rummaged for a box of cigarettes in the storage compartment between the front seats.  


Unfortunately, doing so had him fumble and drop his phone, the thin device sliding smoothly between the seats and into the abyss below.  


_“Dammit,”_ he cursed, and abandoned the cigarette search for a minute to try and dig for his phone...  


* * *

As soon as they were inside, in the bare stairwell that led to their apartment, Zoro reached out a hand to stop his daughter ascending just yet.  


“Wait,” he said, something that had her look back at him in mild surprise.  


He’d blurted it out before he could stop himself, his voice clearly two steps ahead of his mind.  


“I gotta….” he stuttered, almost looking like he was going to be sick, and for that Tana subtly backed up a step, narrowing her eyes in confusion.  


“What…?” she asked, but he shook his head resolutely.  


“I gotta be honest with you,” he breathed, and the admission was so strange that she pulled another suspicious face.  


“What do you mean…?”  


Zoro took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a minute and letting it out shakily. His fists trembled slightly at his sides before he opened his eyes once more to face her.  


The whole car ride with Sanji, he’d been thinking about this, fucking _knowing_ the irritating cook was right and _knowing_ he had to be honest. It was an awful feeling, and he hated how fucking _scared_ he was of it now. He never used to be. He’d always prided himself on telling things as they were, and in fact, people had appreciated him for it.  


But he hadn’t felt like himself in over a year, not since Kuina had gone, and part of him wondered how much of his own identity was attached to her.... Without her, was he anyone?  


“I went to the cook’s place last night….” he said eventually, his voice quiet and fairly terrified to spill the reason, but he willed himself to finish. “....to tell him to stay away from you.”  


Her face fell a little, mouth opening and stammering for a second before she again breathed, “What?”  


Another deep breath, his insides feeling as if they were about to twist themselves in a knot. He had to explain. If she would listen to him long enough to let him explain himself, maybe this could still turn out okay.  


“Yes. I….I found out some things….about him, and….I really didn’t think----I-I thought he wasn’t a good guy, and that he shouldn’t be helping you or---or texting you or---”  


“But why?” she blurted, letting out a heavy exhale and furrowing her brows. “He didn’t do anything!”  


“He didn’t, but---” Zoro stuttered, finding himself floundering for words and searching for the right way to clarify his reasoning in the face of her growing upset.  


“I thought----he just----first, he picked you up from school out of the fuckin’ blue, and then after I heard he----he---”  


“You heard he what?!”  


“I heard his family was into some shady business, okay?” Zoro growled back, more harshly than intended, and he instantly regretted it, seeing, first, how startled his daughter’s expression turned.  


But then a look of ferocity came over her face that so much mirrored her mother it nearly took Zoro’s breath away.  


“What, did you _spy_ on him?!” she yelled, dropping her bag onto the steps in her anger. “Dad, he didn’t _do_ anything!”  


“Tana, I didn’t want him to _hurt you!_ I didn’t know him; I didn’t like that he was in contact with you when I didn’t know about it!” Zoro hissed, knowing this attempt was going off the rails, and quickly. “But dammit, _listen_ to me here, I’m not _finished---!”_  


“Why do you do this, Dad?!” Tana interrupted again, beyond reason, stomping a sneaker against the ground and glaring up at him with raw pain and frustration in her eyes. “You always do this now! You try and take away anything I like---anything that’s going good! First it was kendo, and now when Sanji’s been so cool to me, you want him gone too!”  


No. No, this wasn’t what he’d intended, and Zoro felt pure panic rise within him as tears of misery began to well in Tana’s eyes, despite her best attempts to wipe them away with the back of a hand.  


He’d wanted to be honest, perhaps heeding the cook’s words after all, even if it was just about this incident first. He’d wanted to take a tiny step in the right direction, start training himself for the reveal he _knew_ he’d have to make, but even this was going wrong.  


“Tana!” he huffed out, his voice coming gruffly again. His distress was the cause of it, not anger, especially not that, as his daughter stood there sniffling and scowling just as Kuina had whenever she’d been truly upset. _“Listen_ to me! I’m trying to tell you that---”  


_“This is such bullshit,”_ Tana muttered stubbornly, shaking her head, not wanting to hear another word out of her father when she’d already convinced herself he was ruining things again.  


And before he could stop her, she pushed past him and ran out through the building’s doors, onto the sidewalk.  


_“Tana!”_ Zoro yelled, scrambling after her, grabbing the door and rushing out as well. Though as soon as he did, his injured head swirled painfully, and he had to catch himself from toppling right over into the nearest gutter. _“Tana…”_  


Through blurred vision, he could just make out his daughter, already sprinting out of the parking lot and across the street...  


* * *

It took Sanji far longer than he’d anticipated to dig his phone out from the dark recesses of the cave beneath his seat. He’d shoved a hand between the crack through which it had slipped, but only managed to get his hand stuck, having to forcibly yank it out after a minute and massage his fingers back into working order.  


He bent over forwards, tried to peer beneath to see where it had landed, then, with a groan, realized he’d have to get out and open the door.  


So, muttering obscenities to himself, he’d done just that, hopping out of his car and moving the seat back…..then forward….until _finally_ he located the device wedged within the intersecting metal bars beneath the seat. It took another minute during which he found himself shoulder deep beneath the seat and nearly kneeling on the rough asphalt before he finally got hold of the stupid thing.  


_“Fuck,”_ he breathed to himself, running a hand through his hair and quickly pocketing his phone where it couldn’t escape again.  


Then he climbed into the car and prepared to, at last, get going.  


But that was the exact moment when the doors to the building burst open and out rushed Tana, peeling down the sidewalk in the opposite direction towards the street.  


He was midway through closing his car door again, but he quickly stood, eyes widening with alarm when Zoro followed after a second later, calling her name….and then nearly collapsing dizzily on the spot.  


“Oi!” he shouted, slamming his door shut and running up to the idiot. “What the hell happened?!”  


Zoro leaned heavily on the swinging door, panting and squeezing his eyes shut in pain, breathing out his daughter’s name again. 

He just managed to glance up when the cook hurried to his side.  


If he was surprised to see Sanji was still here, he didn’t show it outwardly, just pinched at the bridge of his nose to try and steady his vision.  


Then he muttered, _“Go after her. Please.”_  


He didn’t have to tell Sanji twice, the blond already darting after the girl as fast as he could.  


* * *

Tana was faster than him, and luck hadn’t been on his side as a million cars sped past, forcing him to skid to a halt on the sidewalk until an opportunity to cross the street came. But when it did, he was off again, knowing the girl had run into the gated park across the way.  


His feet pounded hard on the concrete and his heart just as hard against his ribs. These were not running shoes in the slightest, but he kept going until concrete changed to grass, until trees sprung up and he found himself in a large open field crisscrossed with walking paths, a circular pond with a fountain in the middle.  


He slowed to a jog, but only to get a better look around.  


There weren’t many people that he could see, just a man on his phone walking a German shepherd not far away, and a young, college-age couple cutting through the park on a run.  


That led the cook to zero in on the small playground on the other side of the fountain.  


For some reason, he started walking towards it instinctively.  


Maybe it was because it looked familiar, reminded him of the playground he used to escape to when he was young, on days he couldn’t handle being at home thanks to his brothers’ teasing or his father’s yelling. Days he just wanted to be alone and talk to his mom in peace....  


The playground had a swing set, a merry-go-round, and a jungle gym, as well as a castle-themed playset and a twisty yellow tube slide curling down from the top.  


It was shaping up to be a sunny day, the light blocking out the silhouette of a lumpy form within the slide, a form that moved slightly. And he was pretty sure tube slides didn’t sniffle, when he got close enough to hear.  


She’d managed to crawl halfway up the slide, a space small and claustrophobic enough that Sanji had no hope of entering.  


So he settled down at the end, taking a seat on the bottom lip of the slide, crossing one leg over the other. He was craving a cigarette, but he supposed it would have to wait.  


He heard the sniffling within pause, seemingly when its source noticed his presence, but he didn’t move, just rested his chin in his palm and stared out at the lonely swings, swaying gently in the breeze.  


His mother used to take him to places like this too, before she got sick. Him and Reiju. His brothers hadn’t wanted to come along the older they got, and it was for the best. He remembered the day his mom had found out from other parents that they’d bullied a few kids on the playground. She’d been so sad….  


“I thought you left….” came a small voice from behind him in the slide.  


He sighed.  


“Well, I was about to, but my phone fell in between the seat of my car and….then you came running out like a maniac.”  


There was the sound of movement, and for a moment, Sanji wondered if Tana would come out, but she only seemed to be shifting positions.  


“Where’s my dad….?” was her next question.  


“Looking like he was about to puke from running after you,” Sanji snorted, wondering if the idiot wasn’t passed out in a bush somewhere after all.  


She made a soft noise in response, but said nothing more.  


Sanji tapped fingers against his chin, then decided to swivel, pulling a leg up under him and turning more towards the mouth of the slide so he could speak to her more easily.  


“Was there a fire or something? Is that why you ran like hell out of there? It was literally two minutes after you left my car, y’know,” Sanji said, quirking a brow towards the slide, as if conversing with the yellow macaroni shape itself.  


Tana was silent for another minute until she eventually mumbled, “You didn’t tell me why my dad really went to your place last night….”  


The cook let out a breath, now realizing just what might have occurred. He was rather surprised the mosshead managed to fuck shit up in that short amount of time.  


“Well, I was trying to coax _him_ into telling you,” Sanji admitted. “He’s your dad, and he should be honest with you---”  


“But if that’s the kind of shit he’s gonna tell me, then I don’t _want_ him to be honest!” Tana asserted suddenly.  


This had Sanji close his eyes slowly.  


He could understand this desire. When his father had been honest with him, victimized him for being different than his brothers, which was all true, he’d hated it. He’d hated hearing the harsh truth, that he’d never be as good as them at anything, that his personality, his kindness even, wasn’t wanted or valued….  


But he’d also learned that his father lied.  


He’d lied about why the cops came to their house so many times, why Sanji had to stay in his room for sometimes the whole weekend….  


He’d lied that Sanji wasn’t good enough.  


“Tana,” he said quietly. “I know it’s hard. But if you two can’t be honest with each other, then you’ll never have a healthy relationship.”  


The slide was silent, though he heard her sneakers squeak slightly against the plastic.  


“Why aren’t you mad….?” she asked eventually. “He said he didn’t...didn’t want you near me….”  


It was a valid question. By all accounts, he _should_ still be mad, but….well, oddly enough, it had been _Zoro_ himself who’d changed his mind.  


Listening to the man talk, hearing his concerns, that he _did_ love his daughter and wanted what was best for her….knowing what he had lost. He wasn’t _happy_ with Zoro, but he wasn’t angry, not for what he’d said to _him_ at least.  


He remembered how it felt, after all, to go, in the blink of an eye, from feeling so contented and fulfilled to feeling empty….and lost. Alone. Two people had gone from his life, left him to experience this…  


The cook settled himself a little more comfortably, sinking down into the curve of the slide and throwing a leg over the edge.  


He didn’t know why a tube slide would suddenly cause him to open up like this, but if he pretended he was talking to his younger self, then it became a bit easier.  


“After my mom died,” he murmured, staring out at a large tree near the walking path, a few squirrels scampering up it and squabbling over an acorn. “I tried to be closer with my dad. I tried to be good, to give him everything I had because I was lonely. And sad. I needed that comfort. But it was no use. He didn’t _want_ to protect me. He didn’t _want_ to keep me safe. He didn’t shut me out because he was in pain; he shut me out because he wasn’t _capable_ of showing me love.  


“Eventually,” he continued after a pause. “I stopped wanting to try because there was nothing to even salvage. There never had been…”  


The squirrels had reached a branch, calming and sitting quietly, sniffing the air.  


Tana didn’t reply, and he didn’t exactly expect her to. He just wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone. His childhood still hurt, despite being long gone, and imagining _this_ kid grown up and still thinking about how things could have gone differently….? He didn’t want that for her. Because it sucked, especially when there was nothing that he could do now about his own past.  


“Now, I don’t know your dad,” he said quietly, in lieu of her response. “But you do, so you tell me. Do _you_ still want to try?”  


A minute passed, his words sinking into the tranquility of the park, the wind blowing gently, taking a few leaves with it from the trees.  


Sanji remembered, somewhat fuzzily after so many years, his mom’s face.  


How she’d stand facing him and kiss his forehead every time he flew towards her on the swings. How she’d grab hold of the chains and twist them up for him, then release them so he spun around, a giggling cyclone.  


The slide shook slightly, and he heard Tana’s sneakers again on the plastic, slowly sliding down until she stopped just within the mouth of the slide.  


Sanji didn’t move. When he looked over, her eyes were red and puffy, and she tucked her short hair behind her ears somewhat self-consciously, trying to get herself back into order.  


She finally met his gaze after a few moments, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them tightly.  


“Your mom died….?” she asked quietly.  


It wasn’t an answer to his question, but he wouldn’t deny an answer to hers, not when the girl seemed almost hopeful to have someone to commiserate with.  


“Yeah,” he replied, turning up his lips ever so slightly, the smile not reaching his eyes. “When I was eight.”  


Her brown eyes watched him, then looked down, arms squeezing her legs tighter, pressing her cheek against her knees.  


“Mine did too,” she stated simply. “Last year…”  


He tried not to show emotion either way, to give away that he already knew this fact, or to feign _too_ much surprise. So he kept his features passive, closing his eyes instead and sighing heavily.  


“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and he truly was. He got the feeling that things had been very, very different in Tana’s life before that tragedy. And he also felt guilty for knowing far more about it than he had any right to, knowing even more than Tana herself.  


Eyes opened and he lifted a hand, stretching it over to her back, rubbing soothingly as the girl wiped at her leaky nose and eyes, still folded up in a protective ball.  


But then, slowly, she reached out a hand toward him too, just reaching. So he took it, held on with both hands and gave a squeeze.  


There was nothing more to say, even though there was _much_ to say. He’d said what he’d needed to in that moment, and his quiet empathy would stand with her longer than anything verbal.  


After all, in his mind, he wasn’t the one she needed.  


There was the crunch of footsteps behind him, crossing the rubber mulch of the playground until they stopped a few paces away.  


Sanji didn’t look right away, but he knew it was Zoro. He could hear the man’s heavy breathing, practically feel his intense aura piercing him through the back.  


Tana seemed aware of him too, despite remaining hidden in the slide, as she tensed slightly and looked up. She didn’t let go of Sanji’s hand just yet.  


The cook met her eye, conveyed his silent support for a second before he turned himself to get a look at Tana’s dad.  


Zoro was standing there, shoulders hunched, fists at his sides. He didn’t look too good, his face flushed and brows drawn in, but when he rose his head to look at Sanji, his eyes were focused, even determined.  


He said nothing, just flicked his eyes to the slide, to the small hand poking out that still held onto the blond’s.  


His gaze found Sanji’s again and he managed a small nod.  


He said nothing, but Sanji got the message.  


The cook let out a breath through his nose and turned back to Tana, squeezing her hand one more time.  


“Is it okay?” he murmured, and though it took her a few seconds, she managed to nod as well, a remarkably similar look of determination coming over her own features, much like her father.  


Satisfied with this, Sanji nodded too, patted the back of her hand, then released it so he could get himself off the slide and stand, brushing at his pants to rid them of any dirt.  


Tana didn’t come out of the slide, didn’t try to bolt again.  


So the cook crossed over to Zoro, back towards the entrance to the park and the apartment complex beyond where his car still waited.  


As he passed the other man, he paused, making eye contact with him again and raising eyebrows a little expectantly.  


Zoro looked at him, parted lips….but then simply sighed and nodded again, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck anxiously.  


He wasn’t going to get anything else out of Zoro, not even a show of gratitude. But this probably wasn’t the time for it anyway. He wanted those two to talk, and anything he said might shatter the man’s resolve.  


Was Zoro going to spill the _whole_ truth now?  


He’d honestly be surprised if he did, Sanji thought, as he averted eyes and started walking off, leaving Zoro and his daughter alone. Judging by how damn stubborn these two were turning out to be, he couldn’t imagine the man bending on something _that_ huge so easily.  


But Zoro _had_ told Tana why he’d shown up to bitch Sanji out the previous night, and the cook supposed that was a step in the right direction. He couldn’t deny that it had been a _little_ satisfying to know Tana was more upset with _this_ fact than she’d been about Sanji kicking her dad.  


Perhaps some good could yet come out of this.  


He hoped so at least, for Tana’s sake if nothing else, and by the time he’d made it back to his car, he’d decided to remain optimistic, even if he was dealing with a cowardly brute. Zoro was still a cowardly brute who’d loved and lost, and Sanji had to hope there was reform for that.  


Because if there wasn’t, there wasn’t much hope for himself either.  


Sanji slipped into his still-unlocked car and started it up, grabbing his phone out of his pocket.  


He buckled his seatbelt, but just before he drove off, he looked at his phone more closely, quirking a brow when he noticed he had an unread text.  


And for all his calm introspection, when he saw the sender, he nearly dropped his phone all over again…  


For on his screen flashed a name he still hadn’t deleted from his contacts. A name he _should have_ deleted long ago, but hadn’t mustered up the nerve to.  


He cursed his heart for fluttering as it did, for being so poisonously hypocritical as he read the message.  


_‘Hello, Sanji. Are you free to meet today? I’d really like to see you…’_  


Stupidly, Sanji’s answer to Pudding was already a ‘yes’.


	7. Resurgence

Zoro didn’t know what had held Sanji up at his car, why he’d still been there when Tana ran off. He was grateful, in a way, but also disappointed, _immensely_ disappointed in himself. Because once again, Sanji had been able to do what he couldn’t.

Sanji had gone after her; Sanji had talked to her. He didn’t know what was said, but Sanji had at least kept her from going anywhere, and he knew that was a feat considering just how far she’d run the first time. 

Sanji infuriated him, because he hated feeling incapable, hated _being_ incapable. How the fuck was he supposed to beat what Sanji had done for his daughter in such a short amount of time? 

For the second time in his life, he was stuck with a seemingly insurmountable goal, and it hurt immensely to think of what he could lose. Not just his own dignity this time, but his _daughter._ If Tana didn’t want him….if Tana didn’t accept him anymore….

He was deeply afraid of what that rock bottom might look like. 

So Zoro didn’t know what to feel as Sanji walked back toward the apartments, leaving him tasked with the trial ahead, facing the person his daughter had become as she tried to shield herself from any pathetic attempts he made at being the person he used to be…

He was indebted to Sanji, but reluctantly so.

He was embarrassed with his own incompetence, but frustrated that he’d barely even had a chance when Sanji seemed to do everything better. 

These were such familiar feelings, grievances he hadn’t had for a long time, not since he was much younger, fighting a girl who would always be that little bit stronger than him. But now, they’d manifested again, come tumbling back, as soon as he’d encountered Sanji....

But Sanji had left them, and it was just Zoro and his daughter. This was a test of his _own_ strength, no one else’s, and he knew he had to take it as such. 

His uncle had always taught him to know his own limits, and to practice self-discipline in order to improve. 

His uncle hadn’t spoken to him. Not since Zoro had fallen prey to his own weakness, but he could still heed his lessons which he remembered so well. 

Slowly, Zoro made his way closer to the slide, the mouth of it coming into view with Tana inside, huddled up with her knees to her chest, a melancholy stare fixed on the ground straight ahead. 

He stopped once he reached the end of the slide, eventually lowering himself down to sit on the lip, much as Sanji had. But he pulled a leg up and turned sideways so he could at least see her out of the corner of his eye.

Tana didn’t look at him. She saw him, but she didn’t look, just lowered her eyes to the surface of the slide, studying a few scuff marks marring the plastic. 

She hadn’t listened to her dad, she knew. She’d let herself get angry, let her temper fuel her actions, even though, for once, he’d been trying to tell her something.

But the instant he said he hadn’t wanted Sanji around, she’d snapped, and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Or at least she hadn’t been until just a few minutes ago, when the man connected with her on a level she hadn’t expected.

Sanji had lost his mother too, dealt with a distant father as well, and Tana’s heart ached for someone who understood her situation. Yes, her dad had lost her mom too, and his own parents when he was very young, but it was _different._

Sanji had been in her shoes exactly. The way he spoke to her, his patience, and understanding. She could tell he knew how she felt because he knew exactly how to _deal_ with it. 

Her dad didn’t. Her dad shut down. Her dad ignored things. Sanji had said he was trying, but was he really when the first thing he’d told Tana was how he wanted to take something _else_ away from her?

Maybe she owed her dad a chance…

Sanji had also asked her that question, after all. 

Did she want to try too? Did she want to mend things? 

Of course she did…. She wanted things back to the way they were.

But the fact remained that she didn’t feel like the same person as before...back when she wasn’t _angry_ and _confused._

Still, her dad was sitting there, and she wasn’t running. It had been her first instinct, but she was tired of it, admittedly. Oliver had suggested all sorts of crazy plans for her to break out and join the tournament that afternoon, but she’d lost all energy for even that today.

Was this how her dad felt...? Was this why he’d given up his passions? Why he’d given up on seemingly everything?

Minutes ticked by with neither of them speaking, the two of them almost getting used to each other’s presence again.

Tana had decided she wasn’t speaking though, not until her dad did. She was beginning to trust Sanji, someone she barely knew, far more than her own dad. But she still wanted proof that her father held a desire to change.

“Tana…” 

Her name and the soft tone he used, so similar to how he used to, caused her eyes to well up again, seemingly of their own accord, an instinctive physical reaction to something that used to be so comforting.

She didn’t look up though, just kept staring hard at that spot on the slide, burying her face a little more against her knees.

“Tana, I’m sorry…..it was a shitty explanation….I didn’t---didn’t think it through enough…”

Again, she didn’t reply. Maybe she’d give him a taste of his own medicine, how she felt when he didn’t talk to her.

 _She_ wasn’t quite as hard to crack though, because already his words were affecting her. 

He let out a sigh, and she caught him running a hand over his face, almost looking physically pained, which may have been true.

But he didn’t break, didn’t stop, to her surprise. He simply huffed out another breath before speaking again, this time sounding a little more sure in his words. 

“I went to stop him from seeing you again,” he admitted once more. “But...what I wanted to say now was that….I changed my mind.”

She blinked, her gaze actually shooting up to show her wary shock, unsure if he was serious. And if he was, _why_ had he changed his mind…?

“You….did?” Tana asked after a minute, prompting him to nod, slowly looking over at her too.

“Yeah,” he murmured. He fidgeted a bit, lifted a hand to run over his hair, but seemed determined to continue. “I still....don’t like him. He’s been nothing but a dick to me, and he gets on my damn nerves, but….he’s not….what I thought, and...I was wrong. I was wrong to go there and try to shut him out…”

This time, Tana couldn’t conceal her astonishment. Her eyebrows rose, jaw dropping as she heard what she hadn’t in a _long_ time, her dad admitting he was _wrong_ about something, actually _talking_ about it. 

She didn’t know what had sparked this. Had Sanji really talked him out of his stubbornness? Tana didn’t quite believe he’d worked up the courage on his own, but he still _had_ and she almost didn’t know what to _do._

“So…” she muttered eventually, noticing how he’d cast his gaze aside, almost in fear of her judgment. It gave her a little bit of confidence. After all, how he looked was how she usually felt trying to talk to him these days. “So you’re not gonna…..try and get rid of him or anything…”

“No,” Zoro let out quickly on a huff of breath, shaking his head. Something about her wording seemed to affect him, as if he didn’t want to be thought of as someone who’d do something so terrible. “No, I won’t….”

He did bring eyes up to hers a second later though, more certainty behind them as he said, “But that doesn’t mean I want you texting him nonstop. That’s still weird. He’s an adult, and---”

“I only texted him the one time to---” she protested, but he cut her off.

“Just---not when I don’t know about it, okay?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her dad’s argument. But for once, it wasn’t a physical response _to_ his argument. Instead, whether she knew it or not, it was simply an immature reaction to his scolding, scolding that sounded as normal as any typical father’s would, stern and protective.

She didn’t feel that rush of deep-seated anger within her. Only mild annoyance, for once. 

“If you’re _so worried,”_ she grumbled. “Why don’t I just give you his number too? That way you can yell at him any time you want…”

Zoro froze, his brow lifting, the man turning his head to see she was looking at him, _glaring_ and certainly irritated still, but she’d actually _offered,_ hadn’t she. To share something with him, even if it was as simple and stupid as that asshole’s phone number. 

It was dumb, but it still had a bit of hope swelling in his chest. 

He had to wonder how much of this was the result of Sanji talking to her, something he was unaware she’d wondered about him as well. 

“Uh…” he stuttered, for lack of anything better to say. “Okay…” Then he fished his phone from his jacket pocket at the same time she did. 

Both of them fell into awkward silence as they scrolled through their phones, Tana finding Sanji’s number and Zoro entering his contacts list.

As soon as he did though, he paused, breath catching quietly when he saw, at the top among his favorited numbers, Kuina’s name. He still hadn’t deleted it. He couldn’t see himself ever deleting it. Hell, he still _had_ her old phone, stowed away in the small drawer of his bedside table.

In his lowest moments, he’d call it, just to hear his wife’s voice forever archived on her voicemail….

“Ready?” Tana asked, snapping him from his reverie, and he hastily tapped the button to add a new contact. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his thoughts still swirling around Kuina even as he typed in Sanji’s information. 

He entered the number as Tana dictated it to him, then hesitated over Sanji’s name.

“How do you spell ‘Vinsmoke’?” he asked, thumbs hovering over the keypad.

“I dunno,” Tana replied, putting her phone back in her pocket. “I just put ‘Curly Brow’.”

Zoro snorted, mumbled, “That works,” and began typing the same. 

But then, after another second, he was finished, and there was nothing more to say. At least, he couldn’t think of anything, and neither could his daughter apparently, as she sat there scraping a fingernail anxiously against the leg of her jeans.

The silence went on for so long that he was about to get up and suggest they go home when Tana actually spoke up, her voice a little small and unsure.

“So do I have to go to Grandpa’s?” she asked, raising eyes to his.

He watched her for a second, thought about what had run through his mind as soon as he saw her sprinting away. He wanted her home, wanted her safe. And maybe she wouldn’t want to stay with him, but he didn’t want this to keep happening.

“No,” was his answer, one that he was sure of, but he still mumbled, uncertain of how Tana would react. “Think m’gonna….call off work tonight…”

Surprise again colored his daughter’s features, her jaw dropping a little, though she quickly hid it against her knees, along with the stupid way her lips wanted to tug up. 

“Oh….really?” she said quietly. “Okay….”

“Yeah…” Zoro replied, voice just as soft, and he trailed off again.

Tana sat like that for another minute, until she finally lifted her chin again, regarding her dad almost cautiously, as if he might retract his words any second. 

“I guess….I don’t _have_ to go to the tournament either…” she yielded. “Don’t really….feel like it anymore anyway….”

It was true. She hadn’t practiced, and, after the events of the past few days, she’d somewhat lost the angry defiance that had overcome her that first time they’d argued about it. Maybe it was too weak-willed of her. After all, she still believed she was good enough to compete, but today? She didn’t want to fight. 

Zoro’s eyes were on her, looking a little shocked by her concession, but he eventually murmured, “Okay,” rubbing at the back of his neck a little guiltily. 

This gave her a good view of the bruise still coloring his jaw, now spreading a deepening purple up towards his cheek. 

It was pretty nasty-looking, and despite knowing how resilient her dad was physically, she still felt the need to ask, “Does your face hurt…?”

It was much like Sanji’s question that morning, and when she asked it, Zoro’s initial response was a mental ‘no’. He didn’t want to appear weak. He didn’t want his daughter thinking Sanji had _really_ gotten one over on him that hard. 

But he thought back, back to how things used to be. How he’d act when Kuina kicked his ass. He’d come home from the dojo with plenty of nicks and bruises, and he’d never been afraid to bitch about it, especially to his wife. Kuina would mock him, tell him to try harder next time, and it would end in either more bruises or something equally passionate in the opposite direction….

“A little,” he admitted, looking a tiny bit sheepish, fingers coming up to brush delicately at the mark that felt swollen and agitated to the touch. 

Her brow furrowed slightly, hearing his honesty and watching his fingers for a second. But then, a small smirk came to her lips.

“Want a band-aid?” she asked, and he actually cracked a smile, let out a real chuckle, somewhat to his internal disbelief.

He knew exactly what she was referencing, after all.

It was six years ago now. He’d banged up his ribs pretty badly, the fierce bruise stretching up his entire left side, and he’d let Tana stick a ridiculous cat band-aid in the center, telling her it would heal the injury twice as fast.

Of course, it hadn’t, and his daughter’s indignation upon discovering his little white lie had ended in her sticking band-aids on his eyebrows when he fell asleep later. Kuina had filled his patchy eyebrows in with some kind of make-up pencil the next morning.

 _“No,”_ he answered pointedly, rolling his eyes when she giggled to herself.

The smile lingered on his face, his heart feeling a little bit lighter for it, and he sighed. 

“Should we….go home?” he mumbled, jerking his head back towards their apartment. “Or do you really wanna be a playground hermit all day...”

Tana shook her head and crawled her way out.

“Move,” she ordered with a light-hearted shove to his shoulder until he stood and gave her room to stand as well. 

His injured head swam with the rush of standing, but he ignored it in favor of a better rush that came with the little smirk Tana shot over her shoulder at him before walking off ahead. 

There was still a long way to go. He was still terrified of what needed to happen in the future, but this small step had restored a bit of hope within him, enough to make him forget the pounding of his head from the injury that had really knocked some sense into him. Not that he would give the dumb cook the satisfaction of knowing that.

He and his daughter walked quietly, but leisurely, for once, back to their building, where they were both glad to find Tana’s bag untouched where it still sat in the stairwell, forgotten with all the drama. 

They went upstairs; Zoro showered and changed his clothes. And by the time he settled on the couch with the TV on for a much-needed nap, he wasn’t alone.

His daughter had elected to stay nearby, doing a bit of homework at the kitchen table, instead of holed up in her room…

* * *

_It was quiet when Sanji reached his apartment, a surprising fact considering Pudding was always home at this time, home and waiting for him, but he couldn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. No sounds in the kitchen, nor the shower or TV running. Nothing._

_Sanji was almost disappointed, not to mention confused. After all, what with his girlfriend’s big plans for the day, he’d been more than eager to finish his shift and get home so he could hear all about what had conspired._

_She hadn’t even texted him all day, despite how manically he’d begun checking his phone in the late hours of his shift, and he was dying to know what had happened._

_They’d been together only a year, but it felt like a lifetime. They texted the whole day through when they were apart, much to some of their friends’ annoyance, but they couldn’t help it._

_Sanji had never met anyone who shared so many similarities with him. Pudding was kind and romantic. She shared his passion for the culinary arts, shared similar dreams._

_And she also shared his hopes for a family of their own some day..._

_He just hoped all had gone according to plan._

_The cook turned the doorknob, somewhat nervously, ready to spring into action should he find his girlfriend in tears or anything of the sort. He stepped in from the hallway, his work uniform thrown over his shoulder, in need of a wash, and was surprised to find Pudding nowhere in sight._

_What he did find, however, had his breath catch in his throat and his heart do a little dance in his chest._

_The room was dimly lit by a few candles on the countertop, but it was enough to illuminate the scattered red rose petals on the floor that trailed their way through the small apartment to the open back door, where, outside on the balcony, he could see a glimpse of the warm flickering of more candles beyond._

_The fanciful nature of it all had Sanji closing the door behind him and advancing slowly, feeling almost in a dream, or a trance, as he followed that trail of petals, dropping his uniform absently on the couch when he passed._

_His heart was fluttering, a look of awe on his face when he finally stepped through the back door to find his beautiful girlfriend seated at the small patio table they kept back there. She’d set up more candles on the table, their flames waving slightly in the warm breeze, and on the table was a bottle of wine in a metal bucket, a pair of wine glasses, and a stylish plate of chocolates._

_“Pudding,” he murmured with a quiet chuckle, the romantic atmosphere leading him to hush his voice, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “What’s all this?”_

_She stood, beaming at him, her brown hair still pulled back in the long French braid she’d styled it in this morning, though she’d changed into a summery white dress that made her look like an angel as she approached him, hands already outstretched to take his face gently._

_Pudding didn’t answer him, simply guided his head down to close the distance between them with a soft kiss to his lips, one he returned just as tenderly. Clearly, she had a plan here, and he wasn’t going to spoil whatever she had to tell him._

_Her hands moved from his cheeks to his hair, delicate fingers tugging lightly at the longer strands in the back as her lips gingerly caressed his._

_He touched her waist, pulled her closer, exploring the slim smoothness of her lower back, even through the lacy fabric of her dress._

_This was how it always was with her, slow and gentle, perfect, in a way. If ever he felt the urge for more, for something more rough and adventurous, he suppressed it, because surely this was the best there was._

_He didn’t want to taint the sweet purity of their relationship, not when so much was going right._

_Her lips parted from his, though she lingered close, enough that he could smell the faint hint of chocolate on her skin. He imagined she’d made those chocolates herself._

_“It’s a celebration,” she finally answered him, her bright eyes watching his lips before lifting to meet his properly._

_Sanji let out a short laugh, squeezing her waist._

_“What do you mean? You got the loan?”_

_“Better,” she said with a growing smile. And she leaned closer to whisper, “I bought the café~”_

_“You---” he stammered, fumbling for the right words. “A-Already? I---weren’t you only going to the bank today?”_

_She shook her head, bounced on her toes a little and gave a gleeful little squeal of excitement._

_“Mama gave me the money!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t even have to take the loan!”_

_Sanji’s face fell despite himself, all enthusiasm quickly draining from his expression._

_“Pudding….” he breathed, trying to make sense of everything even as she giggled and kissed his cheek, hugging him tight. “Pudding, I thought….w-we discussed this, I thought you weren’t going to take money from her. That’s----that’s the money my brothers helped her earn. From selling---”_

_“But, Sanji,” Pudding assured, giving him a squeeze. “Mama gifted me the amount in full. The loan---we would’ve been in debt. And I would have hardly gotten the café on its feet if that was the case. Sanji, this way, nothing will hold us back! All Blue is that much closer!”_

_He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that it was okay, that, now that she’d apparently purchased Caramel in full, his own restaurant really was within reach._

_But no. She’d promised. Promised him she wouldn’t accept money from her mother, not money that had only been earned at the expense and pain of others, himself included. It was easier, but it wasn’t right._

_He couldn’t reply, not having seen this move coming. He’d trusted Pudding, that she wouldn’t lose sight of herself, that she wouldn’t utilize her mother’s dishonesty and manipulation for her own personal gain._

_Pudding seemed to sense his stunned displeasure. He wasn’t picking her up, wasn’t swinging her around joyously as he might have._

_She pulled back to see his face, a small frown coming to hers._

_“You’re not happy…” she murmured, and it was stupid, but his first instinct was to comfort her, wipe that frown off her face, despite his own feelings._

_He settled for something in the middle, stammering again for words as he stared down at her._

_“Pudding,” he said, his disappointment palpable in his voice. “You promised me. You know how I feel about their business. It’s illegal---”_

_“The **money** isn’t illegal, Sanji,” she insisted. “I can use it for what I want. And I know---you don’t accept your brothers, but my mother is---she wants what’s best for me! She wants my dreams to come true! I thought---I thought you’d be glad for me….”_

_“Of course I am,” Sanji assured quickly, bringing hands to her arms and ducking his head a little to meet her eye. “I want you to have this too, Pudding, you **deserve** this. It’s your dream. I just….we said we were going to do this together. Take the loan and earn the money back---it would’ve been---even more satisfying!”_

_Pudding closed her eyes, bit her lip, and shook her head._

_“I couldn’t---say no to Mama, Sanji. Her generosity was…”_

_The woman trailed off, hands still at the back of Sanji’s head slipping somewhat limply down to his shoulders._

_She opened her eyes a second later though, locking her gaze on him, almost pleading with him to understand._

_“If Zeff offered you the Baratie now, wouldn’t you take it?” she asked. “You forgive **him** for his past.”_

_Sanji sighed, brought his forehead to hers, desperate for some respite. He’d really expected her to follow through on the change she’d promised…_

_“That’s completely different, Pudding, and you know it,” he murmured. “Zeff robbed those businesses fifty years ago. Long before he even thought up the Baratie. He built this restaurant from the ground up. On his own. With money he’d earned **honestly**.”_

_“So I’ll do that now!” she insisted, lifting hands again to thread in his hair. “I have the café. Everything else will be as we planned! Anything else that happens won’t involve Mama.”_

_He wanted to trust her words, desperately. He wanted to believe her head was in the right place, that she wasn’t slipping further and further into her mother’s schemes. He wanted her to be the same innocent Pudding he’d been introduced to….he’d fallen in **love** with…._

_“Do you promise?” he asked, sighing when she pulled back to look at his face, eyes still alight with excitement, but sincere._

_“Yes,” she said and pressed her lips to his for extra reassurance._

_He kissed her back, letting a tiny smile work its way back onto his lips when they parted._

_“Trust me,” she breathed, and he found himself doing just that. Hell, he’d do anything she wanted if she looked at him like that, her smile as luminous as the lights dancing over the water two stories below._

_She was so beautiful that he fell into her lips again automatically, searching for fortitude and restoring his confidence in her._

_He felt her lithe body press against his, her supple skin sliding smoothly under his hands, his angel distracting him from all of his worries, whisking him off and locking him far away from them._

_“I love you,” he whispered over her lips, and she let out a giddy laugh, nuzzling her nose into his._

_“I love you too,” she replied, then pulled away, taking his hands in hers and backing towards the table. “So...would you like to try some of my chocolates~?”_

_The cook dropped his head and chuckled, knowing his innocent girlfriend probably didn’t mean any innuendo, and he followed her, joining her willingly._

* * *

Sanji sat at the small table on his balcony, alone, not an hour after she’d texted him. He sat hunched over, elbows on his knees and hands anxiously clasped behind his neck, trying to keep the nervous pounding of his heart under control as a forgotten cigarette smoked between his fingers. 

He’d agreed to meet her here, at his apartment. He hadn’t wanted to, afraid of the memories that would resurface….afraid of what he might do, how he would act, but she’d been in the area, so he’d agreed. 

This was his compromise, to keep her outside, to keep her from entering the space that was now solely his. It would never be _theirs_ again, surely, and he was scared of tricking himself into thinking otherwise.

How long had it been? Fuck. Over a year now. He’d last seen her at his brothers’ trial, looking dazzling in a deep purple dress and a powerful black blazer, her hair tied back in a bun. He remembered it so clearly, remembered how much she _didn’t_ look like herself. 

She hadn’t been his sweet Pudding. She had been someone else, someone powerful….someone who no longer shared his interests.

This he had to remember as well. There was a _reason_ he’d been trying to get over this. He knew now that what he missed most was the company, the feeling of security, the support....but he couldn’t deny he missed her body. He missed her lips, her touch, the saccharine words she’d whisper in his ear as they made love just as delicately…..as he held himself back. 

He’d held himself back. He’d _always_ held himself back with her. Or rather, _she’d_ held him back. The constant worry, his own family’s dirty connection to hers a perpetual stress, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. 

He didn’t want that in his life again. Not when he was trying so hard to be free of his past. 

The sound of footsteps, distinct high-heeled footsteps, coming into earshot in the alley below actually had him startle slightly, the cook quickly getting to his feet and stubbing out his cigarette.

His heart felt as if it would soon escape his chest, but he forced himself to look calm, slipping trembling hands into his pockets and leaning against the rail in anticipation as those footsteps began to ascend the stairs to his deck. 

Slowly. One by one. 

Ten steps. 

Eleven.

Twelve.

And then, there she was, every bit as captivating as he remembered, her hair styled in two long pigtails, wearing a floral low-cut top and high-waisted pants. 

She was the same, and yet, her face had hardened, a serious expression upon her features, a resting face he didn’t recognize. It caught him off-guard.

But as soon as she saw him standing there, it melted away, almost as quickly as he’d noticed it. She looked at him with the same glowing affection she had for three years of their lives, a soft breath leaving her. 

A flush colored her cheeks and she lifted a hand to bashfully tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, putting on display a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. A tattoo of a ruby-colored eye that _definitely_ hadn’t been there before. 

This surprised him. The Pudding he knew had never been a fan of body modification…

She was still staring at him, a slow smile coming over her face.

And then she stepped forward, crossing the deck towards him with a soft utterance of his name.

“Stop,” he blurted out before she could get any closer, holding a hand out to keep her several paces away. 

As natural as it would have been to rush in for a hug, he hadn’t forgotten. He hadn’t forgotten _why_ that couldn’t happen.

“I---” 

She halted her steps, hands, already outstretched, clasping together nervously instead. 

“I’m just happy to see you,” she murmured. 

He took a breath to steady himself, thinking about how he’d felt that day, catching her with Yonji, the terribly smug look on his brother’s face, and the way she’d clung to Yonji’s arm even as she tried to defend herself. He remembered the dangerous flash in her eyes, the bitterness in her voice when she’d shouted that he would never accept her family.

“Why did you want to meet?” Sanji asked tiredly, his hand slipping back into his pocket, gaze leveling her behind a despondent haze. 

She looked a little taken aback, again twisting fingers in her hair anxiously. 

“Maybe I....wanted to see how you were doing---”

“Pudding.”

Her eyes lifted to his, and she saw it. He’d shed all pretense and he didn’t look ready to entertain anything other than the truth.

Slowly but surely, the naive, stammering facade she’d adopted disappeared, leaving her staring at him much more deliberately, hands lowering to her sides. 

“I need your help,” Pudding stated simply, his brows furrowing in response.

“What could you possibly want my help with,” Sanji replied warily, lifting his arms to cross them over his chest, leaning back against the balcony railing. 

She mirrored his body language, shifting her weight to one foot. 

“I talked to Yonji---” she said, to which he immediately bristled.

“And what the hell does this have to do with anything---” 

“Apparently Ichiji is looking to reduce their prison sentence.”

She stated it firmly, and the words resonated with him, chilled him to the core. 

His heart knocked hard in his chest, a terrible unsettling feeling rising within him.

“How…? They’ve already been sentenced,” he asked, careful not to show his discomfort, though he couldn’t disguise his suspicion.

As far as he knew, his brothers still had another four years left in prison, and to hear even the possibility that this could be undone…. 

He didn’t want to think about that.

“He’s planning on serving as an informant to the authorities,” Pudding explained, and even she looked apprehensive about what she was saying. “He wants to turn in Mama for acting as their supplier….”

Sanji blinked, trying to wrap his head around what she was telling him. So his brothers wanted to pull the rug out from the Charlotte chief herself. 

He’d been aware, at the time of his brothers’ little enterprise, that they and the Charlottes were working together, distributing her “candy,” as so many in the business called it. Steroids and drugs were what it had really been.

This was why he’d been so worried about Pudding, so determined to keep her out of their operations. She was his beacon of hope. 

He’d thought that maybe, together, they could finally put an end to the wrongdoings of their families, especially at a time when Reiju had estranged herself, wanting nothing to do with the whole business. 

He and Pudding alone could do something about it. 

But he’d been wrong, of course. And he’d been forced to take matters into his own hands. 

“I-I don’t---” he stammered, raising a hand to rake it back through his hair. “How will any of that reduce the sentence?”

“If he cooperates with the government, it can be done,” she replied, watching almost calmly as the cook began to unravel.

“Well, I can’t---that can’t be----” he stuttered. “Someone has to stop them! After everything they’ve done, they can’t just---cheat the system like that!”

Pudding’s lips pulled into a slight smile, almost sympathetic.

“And I can’t let my mother be sentenced instead,” she reasoned gently, taking a step closer to him. “She’s my _mother._ That’s why I need your help, Sanji. Our interests align. We have to stop them.”

He let out a breath, shaking his head and furrowing his brow, eyes fixed hard on the ground. 

_Did_ their interests align?

After everything he’d done to make sure his brothers finally met justice, to think it could all be reset…

But on the other hand, if he _did_ stop them from incriminating her, Big Mom would still be free… And he wasn’t sure which was worse.

In the end, it came down to who he’d rather see face punishment...his brothers, or Pudding’s mother.

The dilemma must have shown on his face because Pudding had moved closer again, and her presence wasn’t comforting as it used to be. In fact, it made the cook uncomfortable enough that he huffed a breath and moved away from her, pacing across the balcony.

 _“We?_ What is it you want me to do exactly?” he asked irritably. “I’m _so_ done with dealing with this shit---”

“Talk to them. Go to Impel Down and find out exactly what they’re planning,” Pudding urged, trying to close the gap between them again. “If they have information to use against Mama, then we can counter it before they tell the authorities.”

Sanji brought hands up to press against his temples, feeling his head throbbing as much as the stupid mosshead’s likely had earlier that morning. 

“And if I say no…?” 

Pudding gave a slightly over-dramatic sigh, a small pout coming to her lips. 

“I suppose there’s always your sister to ask…”

 _“No!”_ he asserted instantly, lifting a fierce gaze to her. If there was one person in his family he would protect, it was the only one left who he loved. “Leave my sister out of it! She made it clear long ago she wants nothing to do with any of this!”

“Then please, Sanji…”

Pudding finally crossed the distance between them, bringing hands gently to his arms where her fingers trailed delicately, just as they used to. 

It was traitorous, but her touch, if not her presence, was actually soothing. It was enough to have the cook pausing, looking at her with an expression that nearly faltered into desperation. He didn’t want this anymore. He didn’t want to deal with this; he’d thought it was over, and the thought of yet more drama to do with his family was exhausting. 

His thoughts drifted, even as she watched him, drifted to earlier that morning, when he’d talked to Tana at the playground.

He felt much as she had, and he knew he’d been right to see himself in that girl. He felt cornered, backed into a wall, angry that someone he used to care for would take away his peace…

Sanji wanted to be honest, as he’d insisted Tana and her father be. He wanted to tell Pudding that he wished for no part in this. That his brothers could fucking do as they wanted so long as they didn’t bother him again. But now that he _knew_ what they were up to...could he really ignore it?

“Is there no one else…?” he asked, feeling her thumbs trace small circles over the fabric of his sweater. “Why me---don’t you have---anyone working with your mom---that guy Crocodile---o-or---”

“Crocodile?” 

A frown turned down Pudding’s mouth, the woman tilting her head in confusion. 

“Why Crocodile…?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he muttered offhandedly, shaking his head. “I just---someone told me he was in cahoots with your mom now. It was just an example, but….”

He trailed off, eyes fixed on the floral pattern of her shirt. 

His breath caught, however, when he felt her hand lift to his hair, stroking gently, and a mistrustful gaze shot up to her face.

“Who told you that?” she murmured quietly, her own gaze on her thin fingers as they played gently with blond strands just as they had in the past. 

“One of his---bodyguards said he was talking about it, I don’t----Pudding,” he huffed, reaching up to catch her hand in his. “I’m sorry, I---I can’t help you. I don’t want to see them, and they won’t want to see me.”

She smiled slightly, letting him stop her stroking, though she slowly laced fingers with his instead.

“I’ve never known you to back down from anything,” she said, and her eyes had that playful glint they always had when she challenged him with a new recipe, reminded him of his dreams and how much he _wanted_ to pursue them. “All I’m asking is that you find out their exact plan. What you do beyond that is your decision.”

Was she telling the truth? He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. 

And it was frustrating because, for the last few days, he’d begun to think that maybe he could help someone else with their shit. That maybe his own problems were so far in the past that he could actually begin to move _forward._

Fuck, he wished she wouldn’t look at him like that, with such innocent hope and pleading in her eyes. He didn’t like this. His _gut_ was telling him not to trust this. 

And yet, it seemed some other foolish part of him wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“If I talk to them….that’s no guarantee that I will help you. What I do will be in my own best interest. No one else’s.”

“That’s all I ask,” she said, hands snaking to his waist now.

He tensed in anticipation of her making another move, but she didn’t, just watched him for a moment….before her head fell onto his shoulder and she sighed, holding him in a light embrace.

Sanji didn’t move away, but he didn’t reciprocate. He couldn’t. This was dangerous territory, and he knew it. It would have been so easy to hold her too, comfort her as he used to. But now, he wasn’t even sure she needed that. 

He wasn’t sure of who she was, especially when she whispered, _“I’ve really missed you, Sanji…”_

He closed his eyes, jaw tensing, a heavy breath leaving his nose.

A more desperate, more insecure version of himself would have given in, but if he’d learned anything in the past year alone, it was that he deserved better. He owed it to himself to be cautious, to not let romance blind him.

 _“I’m not sure what I miss still exists,”_ he muttered in reply, fixing her with a steely gaze when she pulled back to look up at him, a touch of pain in her eyes.

“Sanji….I made a mistake,” she admitted somewhat hesitantly. “With Yonji. And I’m sorry, I truly am, but….I needed you to accept where I come from, Sanji. Mama…..she isn’t going to change. But I still love her despite everything she’s done. I can overlook her faults, and I thought….because you loved _me,_ that you could---”

“Pudding, I never judged you for your family,” Sanji cut in seriously. “I never would have, not when my own mirrored yours so much. Hell, I even admired your ability to love your mother like you do when I could _never_ love my father, or my brothers…”

He shook his head, then lifted hands to her face for the first time, holding her gently in an attempt to make her see his reasoning.

“What I couldn’t stand,” he continued. “Was seeing someone I cared about, someone I _loved_ fall prey to the same mistakes and greed. I knew you were better than that, Pudding, _that’s_ why I objected so much. I was _scared_ for you.”

Pudding’s eyes were wide, but determined, even as they began to glisten slightly.

“But what if I was never better than that,” she breathed, her thin brows lowering. “What if _you_ were the one trying to change who I was….not Mama.”

He sighed, studying the features he’d once fallen in love with, but that now held no power, no control over him. It was freeing, but part of him still grieved for what he’d lost. 

The blond leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, a calming sense of finality overcoming him, assuring him that he was making the right decision. 

“Then I guess we weren’t meant to be,” he said, offering her a sad smile.

* * *

The feeling of Sanji’s lips on her forehead still lingered long after the innocent kiss, long after Pudding had left that nostalgic balcony and boarded the C-Train back to the Whole Cake district.  


She sat, gazing out the window, the ocean whisking by as the train traveled along the coast.  


Sanji had been different than she remembered. Sanji had asserted himself, and despite agreeing to the Impel Down visit, he hadn’t been the same compliant Sanji she’d nearly married.  


She’d expected convincing him would be easier, that he would’ve swept her up as he always had. And she couldn’t deny her disappointment.  


Sanji was the only one in her life who’d ever told her she could be better, _was_ better than everything she involved herself in.  


She didn’t believe that now. Her mother had always told her she was flawless just the way she was. But for a time in her life, Sanji had made her feel truly perfect, like she was worthy of the affections of someone who _was_ so inherently good.  


Today had shown her he had changed, however. Sanji had woken up, expressed himself in a way he never had with her, and it almost served to make him more attractive in her eyes.  


Because as much as she’d come in with the intention of business, her heart had still fluttered upon seeing him. She’d still flushed under his touch, and this was bad. Very bad.  


This was something she couldn’t allow herself to feel. Mama still wanted a wedding, but Pudding knew it wouldn’t work. Not when Sanji had changed so much. His defiance alone had been proof of that.  


Their biggest challenge ahead was getting Sanji to cooperate in general.  


She reached into her chocolate bar-shaped purse to pull out her phone, quickly typing in a number and bringing it to her ear.  


It rang a few times before a voice on the other end came through.  


“Mama?” Pudding said. “Yes, it’s me. Sanji has agreed to the meeting tomorrow…..Yes, all went according to plan~”  


She giggled a little behind a hand when her phone nearly exploded with joyous compliments.  


“There is one small matter of concern though,” she warned, a smile lingering on her face. “It seems Crocodile’s bodyguard is leaking our private conversations….”  


* * *

Several hours later, Zoro was awoken by the sound of his phone buzzing on the table beside the couch, having apparently passed out for much longer than intended.  


The ex-swordsman blinked eyes open, mid-snore, still half asleep as he blindly rolled over onto his side to try and locate whatever had interrupted his slumber. A few choice grumbles left him, his arm stretching out and flopping onto the table where he patted every inch of the surface with a heavy hand until he finally touched down on the vibrating device.  


He didn’t bother checking the caller ID, just tapped the screen to answer the call and brought the phone to his ear, collapsing onto his stomach and shoving his face back into the couch cushion before he remembered he actually had to talk.  


“Hello…?” he mumbled, a loud yawn splitting his face.  


_“Roronoa. I expect you here an hour early today. We have an important matter to discuss.”_  


It was his boss’ voice on the other end, something that was entirely strange given the fact Crocodile _never_ called him directly outside of work. That was something he actually liked about the job. Once he left, it was like he’d never existed there.  


Zoro’s eyes narrowed and he pushed up to his elbows.  


Oh, right. Work.  


A glance at the clock told him he still had another three hours until he had to be in anyway. Except no. He’d told Tana he would call out. And even if he hadn’t told her, with the perpetual headache that still plagued him, there was definitely no way.  


“Actually, was gonna call out today,” he muttered into the phone. “Kinda...came down with somethin’.”  


A snort on Crocodile’s end, one that didn’t sound convinced in the slightest.  


_“Curious. Considering you’ve had enough energy to speak to the Vinsmoke boy about our meeting with the Charlotte family---”_  


“What?” Zoro stammered. “How do you know about---”  


_“So you don’t deny it,”_ Crocodile cut in, a dangerous tone to his voice. _“I explicitly ordered you to exercise confidentiality, Roronoa. I was also unaware you were acquainted with the Vinsmokes.”_  


“I’m not,” Zoro hastily assured, dropping his head into his hand in bewilderment. Not until….well, _now_ at least. Fuck, he’d just woken up from a nap. “I didn’t even---it was a passing thing. I didn’t say anything about what we talked about---”  


_“I warned you of consequences, Roronoa,”_ Crocodile interrupted again. _“I don’t tolerate disloyalty.”_  


This was enough to have Zoro sitting up, noting that his daughter was no longer in the kitchen, though her school books were still strewn over the table.  


A brief glance down the short hallway to their bedrooms had him letting out a little sigh of relief upon seeing her light on.  


Good, because he was not liking the way Crocodile was talking, not that he’d ever seen or heard proof of Crocodile acting violently or “carrying out consequences” as he said.  


“Look,” he shot back, not yet taking the man’s talk seriously. “All I did was mention them by name to him, nothing else. He helped out my daughter the other day. It was a coincidence. I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal. And what the hell kind of _consequences?”_  


There was a long pause, one that had Zoro impatiently rubbing at his shoulder, picking at the fabric of his tank top.  


Finally, Crocodile replied, _“What did he do for your daughter?”_  


This had Zoro growl automatically, one that was low and defensive, that almost sought to do bodily harm, even through the phone.  


_“That’s none of your fucking business,”_ he hissed, dropping all shows of respect for his boss.  


He heard Crocodile snort.  


_“Well, if you wish to indeed keep your daughter separate from these matters, then I suggest you come into my office as requested,”_ he said, and while it wasn’t quite a full-blown threat, it was enough of one to elicit a strong reaction from Zoro.  


“My daughter stays out of this no matter what!” he instantly bit out, voice raising despite himself. He, thus, didn’t notice when Tana’s bedroom door cracked open a bit, the girl peering out quietly. “I won’t let you or anyone else fucking _near_ her!”  


_“And yet, you’ve let a Vinsmoke---”_  


_“Shut up!”_  


Zoro’s pulse thundered in his ears, his grip on his phone threatening to dent it as he seethed.  


This man had the fucking gall to even _think_ of Tana. This was not what he’d signed up for, taking this job, and he’d gotten this far without any problems. But it seemed that disobeying, even in the smallest of ways, was enough of a crime to warrant _this_ shit.  


If he hadn’t needed the money, he would’ve quit on the spot.  


Crocodile hadn’t replied, so Zoro took the opportunity to continue, voice tight with anger.  


“Look,” he said. “I want Hody gone as much as you do. That’s your goal here, right? So why don’t you get to the fucking point of what you want from me.”  


Crocodile made a disgruntled sound, and there was the shuffling of paper.  


_“Seeing as you’ve already inserted yourself in these affairs,”_ the man replied. _“Consider it your punishment that you will accompany Mr. Vinsmoke on a little errand tomorrow.”_  


Something about this request had Zoro’s heart clench hard in his chest. Why was he bringing Sanji up again? Sanji had _told_ him he wasn’t involved. Zoro didn’t understand.  


“What the fuck kind of errand?” he grunted. “And why is he working with you?”  


_“We’d like him to speak to his brothers,”_ Crocodile explained. _“And in the interest of keeping everything according to plan, you will report back to me as to how the conversation goes.”_  


And this time, Zoro’s heart all but stopped, his hand nearly dropping his phone into his lap, a terrible sick feeling rising with him.  


If Sanji was to speak with his _brothers,_ then that meant...  


“Hold on!” he stammered, feeling his breathing pick up against his will, a bit of panic overcoming him. “You mean go to---?!”  


_“Oh yes,”_ Crocodile interrupted calmly. _“You of all people should be quite comfortable there. It was your home for a year, correct?”_  


* * *

Tana had left the kitchen after a while, bored of homework and bored of whatever was on TV. Her dad had been sleeping soundly on the couch as far as she knew, so she’d thrown on some more comfortable leggings and kicked back on her bed to relax with a bit of Fire Emblem.  


It was almost peaceful, she thought, certainly more peaceful than it had been in a long time.  


Her conversation with her father at the playground had been awkward, but….he’d stayed home. He’d really stayed, even just to sleep, and that was _big_ because it meant he’d taken others’ advice. He’d kept his word on something, and maybe, if she let herself be hopeful, that meant things could change...  


It was another hour before she heard any sounds besides the TV coming from the other room through her cracked door.  


What she did hear eventually, though, was her father’s voice. It sounded like he was speaking on the phone.  


She couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, so she droned it out, too preoccupied with leading her fictional in-game family through the dark kingdom of Nohr.  


Until, however, she heard her dad raise his voice.  


It startled her, admittedly, hearing him suddenly near shouting, and it was enough to have her quickly closing her 3DS mid-battle as she scurried to her door, which she pushed open a little more so she could poke her head out.  


Her dad was still on the couch, hunched over and seething into the phone, and what she caught was the end of a strange one-sided conversation, one in which the other party seemed to be requesting something of her father. Something he very much didn’t want to do, despite his reluctant and almost defeated agreement just before hanging up.  


As soon as he did, she saw her dad let out a hissing breath, closing his eyes and pressing his phone against his forehead, lips pulling back in a pained grimace.  


He didn’t move, and he looked so troubled that she decided to step out, down the hall until she reached the entrance to the living room.  


“Dad….?” she asked, hands touching the corner of the wall as she watched him a little warily. “Is everything okay?”  


His eyes blinked open, and he took a few shaky breaths, looking a little dazed when he finally glanced over at her.  


“Huh?” he replied, and it took him a long moment before he nodded. “Yeah….everything’s...fine.”  


It was a bullshit response, and she knew it, so she asked, “Who was that on the phone?”  


He sighed and sat back, setting his phone onto the table again, almost stalling for a response.  


“Just my boss. I called off work tonight,” he said, lips turning up a tiny bit in a rather poor attempt at a smile. “But I gotta go in tomorrow morning.”  


“In the morning?” Tana quirked a brow suspiciously. “Isn’t the casino closed in the morning…?”  


“Yeah. It’s something different,” Zoro said offhandedly, then got to his feet and started to make his way to the kitchen, pausing to finally shoot her a more convincing look of quiet reassurance. “It’s fine.”  


She could only watch as he shuffled to the fridge, rubbing a hand over his broad chest absently before bending down to rummage for a drink.  


There was more he wasn’t telling her, and it was immensely frustrating.  


“So you’re gonna lie to me again?” she muttered bitterly, something that had him freeze for a second before straightening guiltily, a beer bottle in his hand.  


When he turned to look at her quietly, there was a look like thunder about her face, a betrayed look that he couldn’t fucking stand. It hurt to see, and it only made him feel worse about what he’d gotten himself into.  


He would be nothing more than a shitty hypocrite if he left her to feel this way, and everything he’d felt good about earlier would be for naught.  


He was scared. And hell, he was confused. He didn’t have a full grasp on the potential trouble he’d involved himself with. But what he did know was that, this time, this trouble was not his fault. He was scared for his daughter, but not because of his own actions.  


This and only this made it easier for him to heave a sigh, close the fridge, and cross over to her slowly, abandoning his bottle on the counter.  


These weren’t his feelings. They were merely facts, so his voice was steady, his speech clear, no trace of stammering when he spoke.  


It was a manner Tana hadn’t seen about him in a very long time, and she felt rather taken aback in the face of it.  


“Tana,” he said, and took a deep breath. “I have to go to Impel Down tomorrow.”  


Instantly, her eyes widened, a heartbreaking fear filling her gaze, her mouth opening as if to reply.  


Instinctively, he reached out with both hands to take her shoulders gently, and it was the first time he’d made such a protective gesture in fuck knew how long, though he didn’t seem aware of it.  


But Tana was, gaze dropping to his hands for a moment in shock before raising fearful eyes up to his again.  


“For _work,”_ he was quick to clarify. “Sanji has some business there. My boss wants me to go with him.”  


This seemed to throw her for a loop entirely, the girl shaking her head and scrunching her face in utter confusion.  


“Wha---Sanji? He doesn’t work with you---why---?”  


Zoro sighed.  


“It’s complicated. I don’t even know what’s happening either. I’ll find out more tomorrow,” he admitted, though a thought came over him and he rolled his eyes slightly. “Or….right, guess I have his number now. I think I’ll call him and ask what the hell’s going on.”  


He gave his daughter’s shoulders a squeeze and grabbed his drink again before heading towards the living room for his phone.  


Tana watched him, still baffled. She didn’t know whether to be relieved he _had_ told her more….or to let this fear overcome her that her dad was, for some reason, going back to the very place that had taken him from her.  


And Sanji’s part in this…? She understood none of it.  


Zoro had taken his phone and was striding towards the front door now, snagging the zip-up hoodie he usually kept thrown on a hook near the door.  


“M’goin’ to the roof,” he mumbled, shrugging on the sweatshirt. “Might yell at him, so….yeah. Don’t wanna piss off the neighbors.”  


He made to turn the doorknob.  


“Dad.”  


He stopped.  


Tana stood rooted to the spot, a stupid lump in her throat that had formed in the last minute.  


“You’re gonna----tomorrow----you’re gonna come back, right? After…”  


She didn’t finish, almost wishing she hadn’t spoken at all when her voice came out as small as it did.  


Zoro’s shoulders had slumped, and she saw him close his eyes for a moment before fixing his gaze on her steadily.  


“Yes,” he said levelly. “Don’t worry about that.”  


His jaw clenched and he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing briefly as he looked at her.  


Then he turned the doorknob and opened the door, striding out into the hallway beyond.  


Tana waited, gave it a good sixty seconds after he’d left.  


That was all before she followed him secretly, knowing she wanted to hear whatever conversation was about to ensue.  


* * *

_‘Mama has arranged a visitor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning at ten,’_ Pudding’s text stated, and it was almost surreal to Sanji as he reread it for the third time in the five minutes he’d been on his smoke break. _‘And since you were so concerned with Crocodile’s involvement, he’s going to send a representative as well, to provide an additional report.’_  


So Big Mom and Crocodile had allied after all, under what circumstances, he didn’t know. But he did know that if Crocodile sent a fucking _escort,_ then it was going to be a hell of a lot more difficult should he decide to help his brothers turn in Big Mom in the end.  


Thinking about it too much was stressing him out, especially when the details were so damn fuzzy, enough that he’d soon blazed through a whole cigarette and lit up another as he paced that frequently-visited alley outside the kitchen.  


He wanted a fucking break from all this insanity, long enough that he could ask his _friends’_ advice. But no. He needed some outlet, needed to kick the shit out of something or someone---in a controlled environment, of course.  


Fuck, this week might just kill him, he thought.  


Suddenly, an incoming call on his phone took over the screen, obscuring Pudding’s text with an unknown caller.  


He’d set his phone to silent mode, and thus, it was almost eerie, staring at that number he’d never seen before with no hint of a cheerful ringtone, given the events that had conspired that day.  


An irritated huff and he gave in to his own wary curiosity, accepting the call and practically slamming his phone to his ear.  


“Hello?” he grumbled out, only to be met with an equally fierce voice on the other end. One that was both fierce and _familiar._  


_“What the fuck happened today? How did Crocodile know I talked to you? And why the **fuck** are you going to Impel Down?”_  


Sanji groaned loudly, holding the phone away from his ear an inch to avoid hearing damage.  


“How did you get my number?” the cook asked tiredly, prompting a loud scoff.  


_“Tana, how else,”_ Zoro growled in reply. _“But answer me, asshole! You said you weren’t involved with them! Why the fuck did you drag me into this!”_  


“Drag _you_ into this? What the hell do you mean?” Sanji shot back. Until, a few seconds later, he realized, smacking a hand to his forehead. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Crocodile’s sending _you_ with me tomorrow?”  


_“Yes!”_ Zoro confirmed angrily. _“And I---”_  


“Well, why didn’t you say no!” Sanji interrupted, starting to feel just as agitated as the dumb mosshead. _“You_ said you weren’t involved with this shit either!”  


_“He threatened Tana!”_ Zoro hissed, and Sanji’s stomach dropped, his heart knocking hard against his ribs.  


No. That was the last thing he wanted. For the stupid shit in his life to drag other innocent people down too. Especially not that kid.  


_“I don’t care if he doesn’t do anything---that’s not fucking okay,”_ Zoro was saying, and Sanji found himself leaning heavily against the wall, ironically the same wall he’d sent Zoro flying into just the night before…  


“This is so fucked up…” he breathed, almost more to himself than to Zoro.  


_“Why are you even going anyway?”_ Zoro insisted again, though his voice had lowered a little, as if sensing Sanji’s upset over this. _“What do they want you to do?”_  


The cook pressed his back against the wall and slid down to the ground where he pulled up knees, threw his free arm over them and pressed his forehead there to try and quell the feeling of nausea that wanted to creep up on him.  


“My brothers want out early,” he eventually muttered. “They’re trying to incriminate Big Mom in order to reduce their sentence.”  


A beat for Zoro to process this information.  


_“And what about Hody?”_ he asked next, the question throwing Sanji off.  


“Hody?” he asked, brows furrowing.  


_“Yeah,”_ Zoro answered. _“That’s who Big Mom and Crocodile are after…”_  


“I don’t even know who that is…” Sanji replied, an edge of frustration to his voice.  


_“Ugh, nevermind…”_  


Zoro seemed just as frustrated, just as confounded by all of this as him.  


And strangely, it was a source of comfort. He suddenly didn’t feel so alone, like they’d been thrown into the deep end of something as of yet incomprehensible to the both of them. Part of him wondered how the hell their lives had become so fucking intertwined in just the span of a few days.  


But part of him was also glad for it.  


“I’m sorry…” he breathed eventually. “I didn’t mean to pull you into this.”  


He lifted his head and stared at the embers of his cigarette, slowly burning down towards the two fingers holding it.  


How long until his own soundness of mind burned out too...?  


“I…” Sanji continued after a moment. “Pudding contacted me today, after I left you and Tana.” He shook his head, frowning. “It all happened so fast. Now, I just wanna get this shit over with so I never have to think about it again.”  


He heard Zoro sigh heavily in his ear, and he almost wished the idiot was actually with him, so he could commiserate more easily. The more he thought about it, the more terrible he felt.  


Him going to Impel Down was one thing, but now, for _Zoro_ to have to go back? To the place he’d been _incarcerated?_ He couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be.  


Zoro’s voice came back, and when it did, it was surprisingly calm and decisive. It was, unwittingly, a tone the cook needed to hear in that moment.  


_“As long as Tana’s safe, nothing else matters to me,”_ Zoro said. _“They can lock me up again, fucking...do whatever they want to me---I don’t fucking care. As long as they don’t touch her…”_  


Something about that little spiel, the fire in Zoro’s voice, had Sanji’s lips turning up.  


Maybe he had done a good thing with Zoro. He’d certainly unlocked a ferocity when it came to his daughter.  


“What do you think, mosshead?” he muttered, that inadvertent smirk still on his face. There was something about this guy that seemed to just...instill confidence within him. “Think we can get through this shit together?”  


Zoro let out another scoff, and Sanji’s smirk widened.  


_“Don’t go making friendship bracelets or anything, Curly…”_ he grumbled, not answering Sanji’s question, but it was alright. He’d heard that reluctant concession in his voice, and he could imagine Zoro’s defeated body language.  


“How ‘bout friendship rings~?”  


_“Gross!”_  


Sanji laughed.  


No, in the span of a minute, he didn’t feel so worried. The worry would probably reemerge at some point. But right now, no, because, as weird as it was, Zoro was _with him_ on this. And that thought alone was a comfort.  


Little did he know that, hidden just within the stairwell leading to the roof of their apartment building as she eavesdropped on her dad’s conversation, Tana was beginning to feel the same way.


	8. Focus

Zoro was a mess. No matter how hard he tried to deny it to himself, he _was._ For the second time that week, he’d been unable to sleep, bombarded with memories from his year spent in that place. 

It had been a year full of misery, one in which he’d barely spoken to anyone. He’d drawn within himself, punishing himself with his own form of solitary confinement. 

He’d been a compliant prisoner, never got into trouble with any of the wardens, nor with fellow inmates. In fact, most had left him alone, save for a few younger guys who’d been naive enough to approach him early on. 

It had been a lonely year, a painful and self-loathing year. He hadn’t wanted Tana to see him there, hadn’t wanted _anyone_ to, but especially not Tana. He’d accepted a few phone calls now and again from the only people that made an effort, Koshiro, and Franky and Robin. But they had been short and tense, probably only made for their own peace of mind.

Compared to some, his time in prison had been rather uneventful and smooth. But that had not been the case inside his head. 

Every waking moment he thought of Kuina, and every night he lay awake hating himself and what he’d done. As time passed, he’d tried to forgive himself, tried to move on, but he knew he couldn’t. Not so long as he saw her blood on his hands every time he looked down at them, remembered, too clearly, the terrible silence after she’d slipped away from him. 

Inside, he was screaming, experiencing more torture than any physical punishment could offer. 

And now, after a few surprising days had done more to patch up his soul than anything had in a while, he was going back. Being _forced_ to go back, and despite what Sanji had said on the phone, he was immensely worried about what emotions would be triggered by returning to Impel Down. 

Tana could sense her father’s internal struggle in the morning, both of them awake early for a Sunday as they waited around for Sanji, who was due to pick both of them up, as he and Zoro had somewhat awkwardly planned the day before. Sanji wasn’t just picking them up to _hang out,_ after all. 

Tana could admit she was scared too. She didn’t know why her dad was going back to Impel Down, only that he was going to help Sanji talk to someone there. That was apparently all, but she was still scared. 

This was the place her dad had gone after her mom’s death. And, up until very, very recently, it was the place he’d never come back from. She didn’t want this to make things worse again. She didn’t want the fleeting glimpses of her dad’s _true_ self, that she’d begun to see return, to disappear. 

Sanji was going though, and while she didn’t know why, this gave her a bit of comfort. Sanji understood. She didn’t know if he knew her dad had actually _been there,_ but he understood her and he wouldn’t let anything happen to take her dad away, right? 

Neither of them could eat, and it seemed her dad couldn’t even sit down when she came out of her room with her backpack that she’d be taking to her grandpa’s. She’d packed it with her remaining homework, her 3DS, and her kendo uniform, just in case her grandpa let her practice, and the bag was heavy when she plopped it down onto the kitchen table. 

She glanced at her dad, standing there, leaning against the back of the couch and staring into space with his brow furrowed, tapping his phone anxiously against his lips. 

“Dad?” she asked, and he lifted his head, almost startled by the looks of it. 

“Huh?” Zoro grunted, unsure if he’d missed her saying something else. 

“Nothin’, you just look out of it,” Tana mumbled with a shrug, opening her backpack and absently rummaging through it to make sure she had everything she wanted to bring. 

She heard him let out a breath and fidget a bit, lowering his hand to twist his phone in his grasp, rolling the device around in his palm. 

Eventually though, he pushed off the couch and crossed over to the table where he gripped the back of a chair and watched her mess with her things. 

Tana felt him staring at her, causing her to stop and quirk a brow up at him.

“What?” she muttered, a little self-consciously.

He shook his head and averted eyes.

“Just….remember what I said last night, okay?”

Tana rolled her eyes, then shot him an exasperated look.

“I know, I know. Don’t tell Grandpa where you’re going. Don’t tell Oliver until after you tell his parents.”

This seemed to appease him a little because he nodded seriously, but he still looked tense as hell.

She decided to needle him a bit, just to see if he’d loosen up. And because it made her feel better about all this too. 

“And don’t steal a sword and run away from Grandpa’s and follow you or some shit---”

“What? I never said---! Oi, you better not be thinking that!” he yelped instantly, disgruntled panic coming over his features.

She laughed at his reaction, and shot back, “I’m kidding,” actually kind of amazed, if she thought about it, that she _was_ comfortable enough to mess with him now. It was….nice, in a way.

At least for a minute. Until Zoro’s grumbling ceased and he went right back to looking concerned. She wasn’t used to seeing her dad look so damn _worried,_ at least not outright, and it started to get a little awkward as soon as the humor had dissipated from the moment. 

She zipped up her backpack again and sighed, looking at the clock over the rarely-used oven while her dad restlessly tugged at the cuff of his dress shirt. He’d even worn a tie, hauled out his formal black blazer, and she wasn’t sure why.

It was nearly eight thirty, the time Sanji had said he’d arrive, and thus, it wasn’t surprising to her when her dad’s phone buzzed suddenly with a text. 

Zoro, on the other hand, nearly jumped out of his skin, hastily fumbling with the phone so he could read it. 

“Alright, he’s here,” he muttered, and grabbed his keys and wallet up off the counter. 

Tana sighed and threw her backpack over one shoulder, heading for the door where she grabbed her track jacket she’d left hanging on the wall. 

Zoro came up behind her, shoving his wallet and phone in his back pocket, the keys jingling in his hand as he ushered her out ahead of him. 

He flipped off lights, and just before he exited, in the moment Tana wasn’t looking, he let out a heavy breath, closed his eyes and brought a hand over them for a second.

 _“Fuck…. Please, get me through this…”_ he whispered to nobody, and yet to the _most_ important somebody. 

If he had even the tiniest _hint_ of her presence, maybe he could survive this day…

Zoro locked the door behind him and followed his daughter out to meet Sanji.

* * *

Sanji hadn’t slept a wink either, and he was really feeling the fatigue catching up to him as he sat in the car, waiting for Zoro and Tana to come out to the parking lot from their building.

He, like Zoro, hadn’t told any of his friends about what he was doing, nor his sister. Ace had complained that he’d been acting aloof for the past few days, so to avoid suspicion, he’d agreed to go drinking with him and Luffy later in the week, just to get the brothers off his case.

Maybe Zoro had made him feel a little better on the phone, but the nerves had caught up to him in the middle of the night, lying awake and staring at the dark ceiling with the dread overtaking him. He had less to be stressed about than Zoro, but he couldn’t help it. 

He was determined to get the fuck over himself though, and that was why, despite getting no sleep, he’d decided to look damn good walking into the lion pit. He’d pulled out his favorite dark blue suit, opted for no tie with a white shirt underneath, stylishly undoing the top few buttons. His nicest silver watch and dark-rimmed glasses rounded out the look, and _fuck_ if he didn’t feel ready to kick ass---if only verbally.

He’d even advised Zoro to dress up, knowing it helped _him_ with his confidence, but as soon as he saw the man and his daughter emerge from the building, he balked. 

It seemed Tana was okay with letting her dad ride in the front seat as she moved towards the back, and as soon as Zoro opened the passenger door, Sanji had his critique ready.

“What is this---Men in Black?” he said as Zoro plopped himself into the car. “That really the best you got?”

 _“What!”_ Zoro shot back. “It’s a damn suit! You said to wear a suit!”

“Well---I didn’t expect this bulky--!” Sanji stopped himself and pinched the bridge of his nose with a pained sound. “Okay, first of all, don’t do up every button on the jacket. It’s too---here, just---actually, lose it altogether! And roll up your sleeves a little!”

Fashion-oriented hands immediately reached out to fiddle with Zoro’s outfit, much to the other man’s horror.

“Fucking hell, and your hair’s still wet!” Sanji complained, fingers migrating to smooth down the ridiculously spiked mess that Zoro had forgotten to tend to amidst everything. “You look like a stupid cactus, and that bruise---dammit, Zoro, we’re trying to make a _good_ impression today!”

“Hey! The bruise was _your_ fault! Don’t touch--- _stop it!”_ Zoro screeched, slapping the man’s hands away. “The hell do you want from me!”

He did shrug out of his jacket though, an irritable scowl on his face the whole time. 

Tana, meanwhile, had slipped into the back seat, trying to stifle the laughter that came from how easily Sanji was able to fluster her dad. Just a minute ago, he’d been an anxious wreck, and now he was grumbling to himself and cursing at the blond in a way that….well, highly resembled how he used to bitch at her mom. Her mom could just about always distract her dad when he was worried about something…

“Hey.”

Sanji had turned around in his seat to look at her, a smug grin still on his face. 

“Too early for ya?” he asked.

“Kinda,” she admitted, situating her backpack on the seat beside her. 

“Sorry,” Sanji replied. “But hey, that bag by your feet? I baked some muffins, so take your pick. Figured your dad wouldn’t feed you this morning, so---”

“What the fuck!” Zoro shrieked in protest. “We have….” He paused to think. “Cereal!”

“No, I finished the Reese’s Puffs yesterday…” Tana muttered, prompting Sanji’s jaw to drop, the man thoroughly appalled with the two’s eating habits.

The cook reached behind him to grab a saran-wrapped muffin from inside the bag and threw it hard at Zoro, where it smacked into his face and fell into his lap. 

“You eat too then, mosshead,” he ordered, twisting to make sure Tana was taking one as well before settling back in his seat again. “And eat it now. So I know you didn’t just throw it away and waste it like the breakfast sandwich I made you yesterday.”

“I didn’t waste it!” Zoro protested as Sanji threw an arm behind the mosshead’s seat and glanced over his shoulder so he could back out of the parking spot. “I ate it when I got home!”

“He did,” Tana added, finally settling on a muffin for herself and unwrapping it happily. “In like one bite---it was gross.”

“Ugh,” Sanji groaned, setting the car in ‘Drive’ and rolling slowly towards the road. 

He side-eyed Zoro as the man lifted the thrown muffin and examined it from all angles, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“What is this---blueberry? I don’t like blueberry,” Zoro complained.

“Well, then there’s apple, chocolate chip, and banana nut too,” Sanji growled, leaning forward in his seat a little to look for traffic before pulling out into the street. “But you have no business getting _picky.”_

“Do any of them have alcohol?”

 _“No!”_ Sanji yelped, as if personally offended, and he shot a glance back at Tana. “How the hell do you live with this guy?”

“It’s hard,” she replied between bites. “He drinks straight out of the milk carton. This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Sanji said, then rapped knuckles against Zoro’s arm. “So _eat,_ you barbarian.”

To Zoro’s credit, he did, not without the most _sour_ expression he could muster as he bit into the muffin like it was poison. 

As annoying as it was, Sanji was actually kind of glad to see the two of them able to bitch and bicker. He’d been worried about whether or not Zoro would be capable of patching things up with his daughter on his own, but it seemed they were back on civil, if not completely comfortable, terms. He didn’t know what had been said, but something had to have gone right.

Sanji let Tana direct him to her grandpa’s house while her dad set to sulking, grumpily finishing his muffin, Tana already scarfing down a second.

It wasn’t a long drive. In fact, it was pretty close to their apartment, in a quieter part of the city. 

However, what did surprise Sanji was when Tana had him turning _into_ Little Garden Park, down a short, narrow road lined by trees until the car pulled into a small gravel parking area outside a large traditional Japanese-style building with slanting roofs and wooden accents. 

Through the trees surrounding it, he could see glimpses of the city beyond, but it sure as hell felt like he’d stepped into an entirely different world as the car rolled to a stop. 

“Whoa…” he breathed, taking it in for a second. “Your grandpa lives _here?”_

“Nah, that’s the dojo. His house is next to it,” Tana replied offhandedly, gesturing to a smaller building Sanji hadn’t seen initially, built in a similar style. 

“No kidding…” Sanji muttered, still rather in awe of the place. First, the incredible house of Tana’s friend, and now this? He’d be in architecture heaven before long. 

But, eventually, he forced himself to tear away and turned to watch Tana gather her belongings.

“Got everything?” he asked the girl, eyes flicking to Zoro as he noticed the man had gone quiet, or rather, his expression had changed. He was no longer sulking. Instead, he’d cast his gaze down, not even looking at the impressive building before them.

Something about that change in Zoro had Sanji’s heart clench. 

And he found himself suddenly wondering with a sickening thud of his heart….. 

Was this where his wife had died?

The mere thought caught his breath in his throat, a strange chill running through him….

Zoro was unbuckling his seatbelt, muttering to his daughter that he’d walk her to the door.

Tana watched him for a moment as he hastily got out of the car, keeping his back to the dojo while he waited for her to join him. 

She hesitated though, turning to the cook one last time. 

“Sanji…” she murmured quietly, her voice far more unsure than it had been the entire ride here. “Is everything really gonna be okay today?”

The blond’s eyes had lingered on Zoro, but he slowly brought his gaze back to Tana, lips turning up a little in automatic comfort. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it, kid. I’ll make sure it’s fine,” he assured.

He was still nervous, but he _knew_ what Tana was most likely fearing wasn’t going to happen. Zoro would be fine. He’d kick the idiot’s head in again if he started getting too affected. 

Whatever had happened the first time Zoro had gone to Impel Down wouldn’t be happening again. 

Tana didn’t reply for a second, just kept her eyes on him, almost judging his certainty, before she finally sighed and nodded.

Her gaze flicked to the extra muffins still in the car. 

“Can I take another one…?” she asked, pointing at the bag, and this had him chuckle, relieving some of the tension he’d felt from a moment ago. 

“Sure thing,” he said, relaxing a bit as she grabbed a chocolate chip one, then got out of the car to join her dad. 

“I can probably swing by to pick you up again after this shit’s done,” he called after her before she could close the door. “One of us’ll text you.”

She looked at him for another long second, an almost faraway look in her eye. Then, she nodded and shut the door, following Zoro, who’d already begun walking across the gravel towards the house, his shoulders slumped and hands shoved low in his pants pockets.

Again, Sanji couldn’t help but glance back at the dojo. 

It looked like an amazing place to train. In fact, it sparked a strong desire to get back into training himself. There was something about the tranquil atmosphere, the sharp angles of the building, the way this felt like a true escape from the hustle and bustle of city life….

But how much pain lurked behind those walls? How many dark and untold stories that even Zoro’s daughter had yet to learn…? 

He didn’t want to think about it for too long, lest his imagination start to form horrible images in his mind, ones that would probably be false, and entirely disrespectful to whatever had _really_ conspired here. 

He sighed and turned his attention back to Zoro and Tana, stopped in front of the house’s entrance. Shortly after, the door opened and an older man stepped out, with glasses and a long graying ponytail that neatly hung below his shoulders. He was wearing a traditional yukata, and he had a kind smile when he laid eyes upon the two and began conversing with them.

Sanji briefly wondered if the man was Zoro’s father, but the mosshead had never referred to the man as such, so Sanji’s instinct was to assume this was the father of Zoro’s late wife….

There were a lot of questions running through his mind, but these were questions he knew he’d likely never receive answers to, at least not anytime soon.

Besides, he had more pressing matters to be concerned with…

Zoro was turning, coming back towards the car now as Tana and her grandpa disappeared inside the house, and the look on his face was as if he was walking towards certain death. 

He got into the car and shut the door.

Silence persisted between them for a long moment, both of them seeming to know what had to happen next. They had to drive to Impel Down and face whatever was to come.

“You ready?” Sanji asked him, to which Zoro could only grunt in reply.

The cook huffed a breath, then pulled out his phone to open Google Maps for the hour-long drive.

* * *

They rode in silence for a while, well past the outskirts of the city when they found themselves cruising down a long stretch of open highway.  


Sanji hadn’t seemed to be able to bear the lack of conversation, as he’d turned on the radio and let some mellow alternative rock come through the speakers.  


Zoro leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but hoping it would help block out the emotions threatening to bombard him. It didn’t, of course, but it was better than watching the bland scenery whizz by.  


A few minutes more passed until he heard a frustrated noise leave the blond.  


Obviously, Sanji wasn’t as good at this not-talking thing. He’d done nothing but wring his hands nervously on the wheel the entire time it had taken to get onto the highway. Eventually, he’d lit up a cigarette, cracking a window and smoking it rather furiously.  


“Hey,” Sanji’s voice finally cut through the quiet. “You awake?”  


Zoro debated pretending he wasn’t. In fact, he mumbled, “No,” and kept his eyes shut and his head resting where it was.  


Another dramatic huff from Sanji, to which the ‘sleeping’ Zoro muttered, “Quit doing that. It’s annoying.”  


“Shut up,” Sanji grumbled. “I’m trying to---work through the shit that’s gotta happen. What exactly does Crocodile want you to do?”  


Zoro opened eyes, if only to roll them, and finally shifted in his seat so he could glare over at the blond.  


“Listen to _you,_ he said. And report back what goes on.”  


“But what if I don’t cooperate?” Sanji asked. “Crocodile’s on Big Mom’s side, but what if I decide to help do her in?”  


_“Are_ you going to do that?” Zoro replied calmly.  


Sanji ran a hand through his hair anxiously.  


“I don’t know,” he answered. “I hate my brothers, and I don’t want to help them. But Big Mom’s the one who started all this---the reason they even got into the drug business. And she’s never seen any kind of retribution for it… I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”  


“And that Pudding bitch----?”  


He stopped short when Sanji shot a dangerous look his way.  


_“---woman,”_ Zoro corrected with annoyance. “She wants you to talk your brothers out of it?”  


“Yeah,” Sanji replied slowly, though he looked miserable about it. “But I keep thinking, what good is that even gonna do. If they don’t use _me_ to help them, they’ll find some other way…. I need to know what Ichiji’s planning… But what if….no matter _what_ I do, someone gets hurt...”  


Zoro sighed, not liking the slightly defeatist tone that had laced itself with the man’s voice. For all of his own worry, he hated seeing it come over Sanji when he felt the man had far less to lose here. If his daughter got dragged into this too, Zoro would never forgive himself, but even he couldn’t deny that making some of these bastards see justice would be satisfying as hell.  


His disappointment must have shown in the thoroughly displeased scowl that came over his face, because when Sanji glanced back over at him after not hearing a response, the blond did a double take and rolled his eyes a little.  


“What?” he asked suspiciously. “The hell is that ugly look?”  


Zoro scoffed.  


“You’re here complaining about your part in this when you already have more fucking power over them than they even know. Weren’t you the asshole who turned your brothers in in the first place? Hell, you’ve got the _most_ fucking power---you get to basically decide who stays in prison here and who doesn’t!”  


Sanji didn’t look convinced. If anything, Zoro’s argument only served to make him look _more_ troubled.  


“But it’s the backlash I don’t want!” he insisted. “I help my brothers, then Big Mom could retaliate. I don’t help my brothers, and Big Mom could still pull some shit because she’ll be _free,_ especially since I am _not_ marrying Pudding anymore!”  


“Fine,” Zoro huffed in response. “Then turn around and go back to avoiding shit for the rest of your days---”  


“Oh, that is _so_ rich coming from you, Zoro!” Sanji hissed. “What about you? You’re really okay with leaving Tana with her grandpa when you’ve still got your damn _secret_ floating around?”  


_“That’s different!”_  


This time, Zoro raised his voice, twisting in his seat to face the man threateningly. Fuck, if they hadn’t been in a damn car, he would’ve loved to beat the shit out of the sly bastard.  


“How is that diff----” Sanji started, then paused, letting out a breath to calm himself. “You know what? Okay. Fine. I can admit we both have shit in our past that we need to face. And you know why? It’s because I’m a mature, sensible adult who can---”  


“You saying I’m not?” Zoro growled.  


“I dunno,” Sanji replied. “Your daughter sure acts more mature than you…”  


“Ugh!” Zoro groaned in disgust, slumping back in his seat like the overgrown child Sanji seemed to think he was. But he couldn’t help it! Not when the dumb cook was being so fucking infuriating.  


Not when he’d actually worked to motivate Zoro, make him _want_ to kick this day’s ass so they could both get the hell out of this mess. Like hell he wanted to admit that.  


He looked out the window again, crossing arms over his chest and trying to ignore the smug little grin that tugged at Sanji’s lips. Honestly, if the shit-cook had only been searching for ways to tear Zoro down to make himself feel better, then…  


Well, he’d just done the same to Sanji. Fuck all of this.  


“Alright, look. There’s no use arguing this. We’re going, and that’s that,” Sanji was saying, almost more to himself now than to Zoro. “We’re gonna walk in there like we own the place, and we’re gonna walk out like we own the place, whichever way this thing swings. And are we gonna take anyone’s shit?”  


This time, he glanced over to Zoro, and it took Zoro a second to realize Sanji was actually fishing for an answer.  


_“Are we gonna take anyone’s shit?”_ Sanji asked once more, raising eyebrows.  


“M’takin’ yours right now…” Zoro mumbled and shot him a glare, so Sanji answered himself, smacking the steering wheel resolutely.  


“No! We’re not!” he said. “Are we gonna let anything scare us?”  


Again, the blond looked to Zoro, and this time, he slapped him on the arm to elicit a response.  


“Ow---quit--- _no!_ There, you happy? Jeez...”  


“No! We’re not!” Sanji chanted again, looking pleased as he turned back to face the road.  


“You’re such an idiot,” muttered Zoro, shaking his head and wondering for the millionth time how he’d gotten himself into this fucking predicament. Then he asked sarcastically, “Have you pepped yourself up enough yet?”  


Again, Sanji glanced over, a glint of newfound determination in his eyes, a confident grin working its way back onto his face.  


Something about that look held Zoro’s attention, the way his hair tousled slightly from the wind of the cracked window.  


A strange pang shot through Zoro’s chest, to his surprise….just before Kuina’s face flashed through his mind.  


“I have, _thanks,”_ Sanji replied, still wearing that grin when he settled back in his seat a little straighter, took a long, cool drag of his cigarette, one hand still thrown over the top of the wheel.  


Zoro turned away slowly in an attempt to suppress the smirk that started to work its way onto his face as well.  


It was a failed attempt.  


* * *

Impel Down was a huge place. It almost seemed to be built with the very intention of being intimidating and imposing. The building was hundreds of years old, having been used as a prison for the entirety of that time. It was a fortress, for all intents and purposes, seemingly composed of nothing but massive stones and steel reinforcements. It towered up three tall stories, and Zoro knew it continued underground for another three levels.  


The fact that the compound was surrounded by flimsy-looking chain link fences and barbed wire seemed to be entirely unnecessary, not to mention pathetic compared to the might of the prison itself.  


It was located on a hill, a cliff really, that overlooked the ocean. Stories told of wartime ships many years ago, docking near the base of the cliff and using secret tunnels carved into the rock to transport dangerous criminals into the prison more easily.  


It was nothing like any ordinary prison Sanji had seen on TV or in movies, and as they pulled into the parking lot outside, after passing through a security check, Sanji began to feel a little bad about giving Zoro such a hard time earlier. He couldn’t imagine living here for a year. The feeling in his gut was already uneasy.  


Zoro was quiet, solemn, as the cook pulled into a visitor’s parking spot and shut off the car.  


The two of them sat there for a second, silent again, almost suppressed by the brooding atmosphere that overcame them.  


“Crazy, right?” Zoro muttered, his voice nearly causing Sanji to jump as he gazed up at the building, wondering what lay behind the dark windows.  


“Yeah,” the cook breathed, and Zoro sighed.  


He hadn’t been out of here that long, and he’d been expecting the emotions to rush him all at once upon returning. They did, naturally, laying eyes on the building he’d only briefly seen from the outside, having only experienced the horrors of the interior.  


But something else surprised him, and that was the fact that he _didn’t_ feel as overwhelmed as he’d expected. Granted, they weren’t inside yet, but still. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience to look upon the prison, and despite remembering all the hardships he’d faced inside….now? He felt almost calm.  


“The top floor? That’s Level One,” Zoro murmured, his voice subdued. “There’s six levels. Four, Five, and Six are underground. The worse your crime is, the higher your level number. And the worse the conditions are, honestly.”  


“What level do you think my brothers are on?” Sanji wondered.  


“For drug trafficking and shit? I’d say Two. Maybe Three if they got ornery enough with the guards.”  


There was a beat of silence. And then Sanji slowly turned his head to look at Zoro.  


The ex-swordsman felt Sanji’s question coming a few seconds before he asked it carefully.  


“What level were you…?”  


“Five,” Zoro answered, gaze still fixed on the building.  


_“Five?”_ Sanji repeated with some disbelief, and there was something in his voice...something like sadness. “But you didn’t even---”  


“You kill a person, you’re on Five. No exceptions,” Zoro stated blankly, finally looking over at the blond and offering a humorless shrug.  


Sanji let out a shuddering breath, eyes filling with a sharp sorrow that seemed to bore into Zoro when their eyes met.  


The blond shook his head and whispered, _“That’s not fair.”_  


Was that true? Zoro had never thought about the fairness of it all. He knew what he’d done, and he knew what he felt he _deserved._ And so he’d taken whatever was doled at him, even if that meant wasting away in the freezing confines of a higher level. He’d accepted it without complaint.  


Sanji’s upset was palpable in that moment, powerful in a way, and Zoro’s lips parted as if to respond.  


But he didn’t. He just sighed and tore his gaze away, breaking that heavy moment.  


“Let’s go,” he said quietly, tossing his jacket in the back and rolling up his sleeves to the elbows as Sanji had told him.  


Then he opened the door and got out of the car.  


Sanji had no choice but to follow.  


* * *

Nearly a full half hour later, the two found themselves in a small, bare room, a holding cell if they were honest, in the visitor’s wing, with a wall of windows that looked into another room with nothing but a table and two chairs, another door on the opposite wall.  


Zoro had never been in this part of the building, having refused all visits himself, so it was a bit easier to remain collected. He recognized none of the guards here, and while Sanji had looked thoroughly unsettled by the pat-searching and the extensive questioning they’d been subjected to before being ushered back to this room, it was nothing Zoro wasn’t used to.  


They’d been left by the guard, told to wait there while the prisoner was fetched.  


“Cheerful place…” Sanji muttered as soon as they were alone, glancing around at the dank gray walls. “I was expecting glass partitions, talking through a phone. That kinda thing.”  


“Nope,” Zoro replied. “This place is medieval…”  


“What, do they throw you on the rack? Give you the iron mask?” Sanji scoffed, but a chill ran down his spine at the way Zoro just gave a dry laugh and didn’t reply, falling into heavy silence again.  


The cook shivered.  


“You’re creeping me out,” he mumbled.  


And that lingering restless anxiety was about to get worse when, suddenly, the door within the other room opened. Sanji’s breath caught when he saw, through the windows, none other than his brother, Ichiji, shoved in by a female guard.  


The room was soundproofed, and the windows were actually one-way mirrors, as the guard had told them. They couldn’t hear anything inside, and Ichiji and the guard couldn’t hear or see them. Sanji could only take in the guard’s appearance---her long, curly orange hair and her, oddly, pink uniform that she wore under a heavier white jacket.  


She was pushing his brother to the chair, leaning in far too close to his ear than would ever be considered professional to speak to him, a sadistic smile on her heavily-glossed lips.

The woman forced Ichiji down, wrenching his wrists up and cuffing them securely to the arms of the chair. Her nails dragged purposefully across the man’s skin, leaving red trails where they scratched as she bent over to say something else to him.  


Then she straightened and began to make her way to the door that led to Zoro and Sanji’s room, much to the cook’s unease.  


Ichiji didn’t look too put off, however. In fact, he had a lecherous grin on his face as he watched the woman advance upon the door. His features were eerily similar to his quadruplet brother, bright red hair, which looked as if it would start sparking at any moment, clashing terribly with the orange uniform he wore.  


_“Fucking hell,_ ” Zoro had hissed, bringing a hand to his face and dragging it down over his eyes.  


“What! What is it?” Sanji almost yelped, jumpy enough, but Zoro’s sudden display of discomfort had caused his nerves to spike.  


“Nothing, just…...Sadi….get ready,” he said, removing his hand and shoving it in his pocket, steeling his features just in time for the doorknob to turn.  


Sanji’s jaw clenched and he blew out a breath.  


In walked the woman, high-heeled boots clicking on the tiled floor as she entered.  


Her eyes were almost entirely obscured by long bangs, and yet her face all but lit up in perverse delight when she laid eyes on the two men before her, particularly Zoro.  


“Mmmm~” she practically moaned, sneaking her tongue out to lick her lips. “They told me you were back, Roronoa~ I thought it might be too good to be---mmmm---true~ Nice bruise~ A shame I didn’t make it.”  


The cook rose eyebrows, having to grind his teeth to keep himself from saying _anything_ in response to that act. The woman was beautiful, but what the _fuck_ was that? In a professional setting? Were they being pranked or some shit?  


“M’not back by choice….” Zoro muttered, standing his ground and leveling her with a dangerous glare, even when she stepped towards them, swaying hips sensually.  


“Mmm, a shame,” she crooned, reaching out a finger to trail it slowly over Zoro’s chest. “I sure would have liked to make you scream some more~”  


Her gaze shifted then, to the blond standing beside Zoro.  


“Oh~ And if it isn’t the goody-two-shoes Vinsmoke~ I’ll relish the day you slip up and join us here~” she said, moving closer and leaning into his personal space. “Let’s taint some of that vanilla~”  


The cook’s face went bright red, and he very nearly stammered awkwardly until he felt Zoro knock his arm with an elbow.  


He glanced over to meet the quick look Zoro shot him, one that silently told him to stay focused.  


A slow blink, and Sanji sharpened his gaze.  


“We have an hour, yes?” he asked steadily.  


Sadi watched him for a moment, then gave a somewhat disappointed sigh and nodded.  


“Mmm, up to an hour,” she replied, and abruptly pivoted on her heel to retreat to the door. “I will be watching from in here~ Any entertainment is appreciated~ However, if I see anything suspicious, I will---mmm---call the warden~”  


She opened the door then and gestured them in, that little enigmatic smile still on her lips.  


Sanji looked at Zoro again, just for a moment, as if to confirm they were both ready.  


And then the cook strode through the door confidently, Zoro following, his stance just as fierce. This was a challenge they were both prepared to accept head-on now.  


The door shut behind them once they were both in the room, leaving nothing but open space between them and Ichiji, whose smirk instantly disappeared.  


“Hello, little brother,” he said coldly. “It’s been a while. And Zoro Roronoa too. How delightful.”  


“Cut the crap, Ichiji,” Sanji growled, crossing the room to stand behind the chair opposite his brother, Zoro remaining by the door.  


“I don’t intend to waste an hour of my life with you, so let’s get to the point here,” the cook continued, voice bitter and low. “Why am I here?”  


“Trust me,” Ichiji replied, fists clenching against the arms of the metal chair. “I’d rather rot in a prison cell than see your worthless face. I was hoping for Reiju. But her help would be fruitless, regrettably. She’s taken her name off the Germa bank account. Something you’ve apparently been too stupid to do, despite all your protesting of our business.”  


“What the hell are you getting at? What Germa account?” Sanji gritted out, trying his hardest not to get riled, but it was difficult when his brother knew exactly what to say to fire him up, even after all these years.  


“Oh, please,” Ichiji scoffed. “Don’t tell me you weren’t _aware_ Father added your name to it before he died. In some foolish hope that you’d finally be of use once you married the Charlotte girl. Are you really so oblivious that you didn’t know?”  


_“What. Account,”_ Sanji pressed again, this time through barely suppressed rage.  


As far as he knew, he’d never been a part of this, never had his name on any of this. And, to his benefit, his father had never _let_ him be a part of it. He didn’t care how much money they made. It was illegal, corrupted, as far as he was concerned, and he never wanted to see it.  


Only now, a sickening feeling was rising in his gut as Ichiji barreled towards a point Sanji wasn’t sure he wanted to hear, even after asking his brother to get there.  


“You really are more senseless than I thought,” Ichiji said darkly. “Shall I explain it in terms you can understand? Seeing as Niji, Yonji, and I are here, you, little brother, are now the sole holder of all Germa’s earnings. Our proud enterprise, unfortunately, rests in your grubby hands.”  


Sanji’s head reeled, so much so that he had to brace himself on the chair, knuckles white and heart beginning to pound as every ounce of hatred he had for his brother came rushing back. He felt like he would burst into flame at any minute if this continued.  


He breathed in and out several times, trying to take measured breaths, even though his mind was somewhat in shock.  


No one told him this. No one told him he’d been named as a holder of their bank account. Why would they? Had Reiju known? She would have told him, surely… Right?  


He couldn’t be certain, he realized, and that _scared_ him, made him worry that maybe they’d manipulated her into this. His sister had always been more of a neutral party, even if she’d always insisted on staying out of things.  


Fuck. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. Because right now, the _true_ enemy was seated directly across from him.  


All that money….sitting in an account somewhere, an account with _his_ name plastered on it. Fuck.  


“And what does this have to do with Big Mom?” he managed to ask, trying to keep his voice as level as possible, not wanting to let on how much his brother’s words had affected him.  


Again, Ichiji stared at Sanji like he was the least intelligent being on the planet.  


“Well, there’s a record. Of every transaction completed.”  


And when Sanji merely quirked a brow in confusion, Ichiji rolled his eyes.  


“Honestly, you idiotic piece of shit… Every transaction completed with Big Mom as our supplier! That account is guarded. But we’ve got the records, down to every last pound of candy sold. _You_ have access to those records. You give _us_ the info; _we_ let the government in on it---show them the proof; Big Mom’s done.”  


“And you three get out of here early,” the cook finished bluntly. “Somehow that seems like a shitty fucking trade-off.”  


“And yet the woman who’s tormented you will finally be behind bars. Seeing as you’re always on the shitty path of self-righteousness, shouldn’t that be incentive enough?”  


Sanji glared at him for a long moment, his grip on the chair threatening to warp the metal.  


“What if I refuse,” he argued. “Why the fuck would I want to help you? I say no, and you’re shit out of luck. I could turn around and tell Big Mom exactly what you’re up to. Zoro here could tell Crocodile.”  


Ichiji hardly looked concerned though, just continued to stare his brother down with a frigid, emotionless gaze. There was nothing behind those eyes, nothing but hostility and disdain.  


“Do that, and I’m sure you’ll have some trouble on your plate,” he mused, one corner of his lips turning up. “A fire where you least expect it, so to speak…”  


Sanji’s eyes darkened. He was unsure what his brothers could pull off from in here, but he wasn’t about to underestimate them. They seemed to have connections upon connections in the so-called “Underworld,” and surely within these very prison walls as well.  


Either way, he’d have threats hanging over his head, wouldn’t he. But, ultimately, what he found himself worrying most about in that moment was Zoro. Zoro and his daughter.  


He worried for his old man, for his other friends as well, but Zoro and Tana were directly connected to this. Zoro had to go and get a shitty job with Crocodile, the idiot. And one wrong move on Sanji’s part could spell danger for both Zoro and Tana, seeing as Crocodile already seemed comfortable with threatening them in the first place.  


If things didn’t go according to their liking….  


Well, would it really matter? Big Mom would be locked up, right…?  


Sanji turned his head to look at Zoro, conflicted but seeking some sort of council.  


The ex-swordsman leaned against the wall, still and silent, but the subtle smirk he turned up, as soon as their eyes met, was entirely bold. In fact, it was almost cheeky, challenging in a way, as if daring Sanji to follow his gut, to do whatever the hell he thought best in this situation and not worry about the consequences.  


It instilled a confident spark in the cook, the realization that Zoro might actually have his back throughout all of this hitting him hard and leaving him rather thrilled.  


He’d never have dared to involve any of his friends in this shit. Ace came the closest, knowing the most about his family life and his brothers’ deeds, but he never would have dreamed of pulling the man into it, unloading the full extent of his issues onto his friend.  


He’d never had someone he could _completely_ lean on, who understood and accepted all the darkness in his life, who’d be willing to run head-first into it with him.  


Was the stupid mosshead actually going to support him?  


The audacious upward twitch of Zoro’s eyebrow and the nod of his head told Sanji that, yes. Yes, he might.  


The cook turned back to Ichiji, fire in his eyes and resolution in his voice.  


“What’s the account info?” he demanded.  


* * *

“Mama?”  


Pudding stepped into her mother’s tea room, seeing her mother seated at the end of the table, a tower of sweets before her that she plunked into her mouth with stubby fingers, three at a time.  


It was a delicate room, one of Pudding’s favorites in the entire house, with dainty accents on the antique furniture, elegant molding on the walls. The light from the sunny day filtered in warmly through gossamer curtains.  


All of it seemed in stark contrast to her mother’s powerful form, lumpy and commanding, seated there with purpose and authority. Her seat was almost like a throne, Pudding thought, and this musing brought a little smile to her face.  


“Pudding! Come in, darling. Have a seat~” Linlin exclaimed, mouth full, gesturing for her daughter to join her at the table.  


Pudding did as told, ballet flats crossing the floor smoothly so she could settle herself in the chair next to her mother’s, smoothing out her skirt carefully as she did.  


“Have as much as you want, my sweet~” Linlin invited, and it was a rare invitation indeed. “After speaking with the Vinsmoke boy, you’ve earned it!”  


Pudding giggled and nodded compliantly, reaching out to take just one of the small chocolates from a tray, taking a nibble.  


There was caramel in the center, just like the ones she’d made for Sanji the day she’d purchased the café. She remembered his compliments, how he’d correctly guessed the ingredients. She’d laughed at his “psychic” abilities, and he’d challenged her to make an entire mystery box of chocolates, proclaiming he’d guess them all correctly.  


He’d been so perfect….so kind and loving.  


And yet, it still threw her into a bit of denial to think that, despite that side of him---despite his complete and utter support for everything she did….he could still hate her mother so much. Hate her mother and not give her the slightest bit of pardon.  


Sanji’s passion had run both ways, she knew, and for this, she worried, especially after seeing how much he’d changed the previous day.  


Which side of him would win out? The good side? That would help her? Or the bad---the one that wouldn’t…?  


“Why the long face, Pudding-dear?” her mother cut in, interrupting her troubled thoughts. Apparently, it had shown on her features.  


“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry, Mama,” she apologized, bringing a smile back. “I suppose I’m just---well, a little worried about Sanji’s cooperation. I did all I could, but… Suppose he doesn’t help us…”  


She expected her mother to assure her otherwise, as she always did. When Mama had a plan, she always stood behind it with the utmost confidence.  


And that was why it honestly surprised Pudding to hear her answer, “If he doesn’t help us, that’s quite alright. In fact, it would be ideal~”  


She let out a great laugh, as if she were enjoying this thoroughly.  


But Pudding didn’t understand, and she couldn’t help the tiny downturn of lips that came with her confusion.  


“What do you mean, Mama?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.  


Linlin laughed for another minute, then leaned forward, resting meaty elbows on the table and grinning broadly at her daughter.  


“Brûlée has informed me that the Vinsmoke bastards are after our candy transactions,” Linlin explained assuredly, speaking of another daughter currently serving time for selling toxic counterfeit cosmetics. “Those fools think it will be that easy to incriminate us. But would you like to know a little secret, sweetie~?”  


Pudding quirked a brow and leaned forward in similar manner, a smirk returning to her face, seeing the confidence with which her mother spoke.  


Her reply was eager.  


“I’d love to~”  


* * *

Zoro nearly had to jog to catch up to the blond as soon as they were outside the building, Sanji already striding with purpose towards the parking lot.  


He hadn’t said a word throughout Sanji’s whole conversation, trusting Sanji to make whatever decision he deemed right. He couldn’t care less if Crocodile approved or not anymore, because at this point, he’d be just as happy to see his boss on the losing side.  


Sanji had taken the account information from his brother, something that had initially surprised Zoro at first. He hadn’t expected the cook to actually opt to help his brothers. But Big Mom was a bigger threat, and if she was locked up thanks to all this, then that was one less problem _both_ of them had to worry about.  


The cook’s brothers potentially getting freed in return was a bit of collateral damage he assumed they’d have to accept. On the plus side, it meant he might have a better opportunity to kick all their shitty asses for being such unbelievable dicks.  


If they’d been working _under_ Big Mom, then they didn’t much scare him.  


“So you’re really doin’ this?” Zoro asked, still riding the high of coming in and out of the godforsaken prison in one piece, beating the shit out of his fears. “You’re gonna get the proof for them?”  


“Fuck yes, I’m getting the proof,” Sanji called over his shoulder, looking like fucking James Bond or something, Zoro thought, as he whipped his car keys from his pocket and twirled them on a finger triumphantly before unlocking his car as they approached. “You surprised?”  


Zoro snorted, coming up to the passenger side and quirking a brow at the blond over the roof of the car.  


“A little, yeah. But honestly, I didn’t know _what_ the hell to expect goin’ in there. Big Mom deserves to be locked up, but… I guess, just….seein’ what a total piece of shit your brother is, didn’t think you’d actually wanna help him,” he admitted.  


“Oh, I don’t wanna help him,” Sanji assured, opening his car door. “Not with anything. Not now, not ever.”  


He paused before climbing in though, leaning arms on the car roof and grinning smugly at the other man.  


“I’m getting those transactions. But I ain’t givin’ ‘em to my brothers~” the cook said with a conspiratorial wiggle of eyebrows. “Those are going straight to the police.”  


Zoro’s mouth dropped open for a second, a brow slowly quirking as he realized the implications of what Sanji was saying.  


Was he really willing to risk retribution on _both_ sides now by incriminating Big Mom _and_ leaving his brothers to continue their sentences in full?  


“Now, come on,” Sanji was saying, a wolfish grin on his face as he climbed into the car. “Let’s go buy a shit ton of alcohol and pick up your daughter.”  


Yes. Yes, he was willing, it seemed.  


And the grin Zoro wore when he climbed in after Sanji was just as exhilarated, the prison behind him, but a sense of liberation surging within.  


He hadn’t felt this much like himself in a long time.


	9. Recovering

A gust of air swishing across her face, following her bokken, the wooden blade slicing past, lifting her bangs and ruffling them gently. The feel of her bare feet sliding smoothly across the tatami mats.

“Again,” her grandfather said quietly, and Tana backed up several paces, creating distance between the two of them. 

She stood opposite her grandpa, both hands on the hilt of her bokken, held out before her. 

“Begin,” Koshiro instructed, and the two of them raised their bokken up over their heads, holding them there for a long moment.  


Then they took three swift, fluid steps toward each other, upon which Koshiro whipped his weapon down as if to cut her, and she reciprocated by swinging hers down as well, stopping just over his head.  


They paused like this for a moment. Then Tana raised hers again and they stepped away from each other before returning their weapons to the middle, crossing them at the tips in front of them, and finally lowering the blades as they backed away those three steps.  


Bokken returned to the ready position in front of her.  


Her grandfather repeated, “Begin.”  


They each brought their bokken up this time, holding them vertically in front of their faces, bodies pivoting away from each other. Then they stepped forward quickly and swung the blades to clash between them with a loud clack of wood.  


They lowered the bokken slowly, retaining the contact.  


And Koshiro lunged forward with a lightning fast parry which Tana sidestepped and dodged, swinging her bokken up and over his, stopping it just over his head once more.  


They backed up; the bokken were lowered, and they both glided back to their starting positions.  


This continued with each kata.  


It was a choreographed dance, silent, save for the occasional kiai, the short cry they’d let out when swinging their blades forcefully.  


It was focused and calm. There was nothing in the room aside from the movement and the harmonic tempo that came from the occasional sound of--  


A loud buzzing cut into the tranquil atmosphere, buzzing that didn’t stop, only continued rhythmically over and over and over from the floor by the wall.  


Tana froze in her position, a sheepish smile slowly spreading over her lips.  


Koshiro leveled her with a scolding gaze and lowered his bokken. He jerked his head subtly towards the source of the vibration, and she smiled a little wider before lowering hers as well and scurrying over to her ringing phone. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to have brought it in here…  


Her grandfather watched as she crouched down to answer the device and began speaking to whomever was on the other end, most likely Zoro, or the man who’d apparently taken Tana in the night she’d run away---Sanji. Somehow, through some strange coincidence, as Koshiro judged it, he and Zoro had shared business connections, and that was the reason for their working together today.  


He wasn’t certain of the details, but it gave him a bit of time to spend with his granddaughter, the first opportunity since she’d disappeared for a night earlier in the week.  


Seeing her here, in the same place his own daughter had trained and grown---it was a little surreal sometimes.  


And despite being a man who remained keenly aware of his own existence in space, his own effect on the world around him, sometimes this space and time seemed to blur for him.  


Perhaps it was due to his age, his mind playing tricks on him, but when he watched Tana move, the way her short hair would whip through the air when she turned quickly, her low-drawn brow, the intense concentration in her eyes….  


Sometimes time seemed to overlap, and he wasn’t sure whether he was looking at Kuina…  


Tana had inherited the will of both of her parents, however, something Koshiro always thought needed to be combined.  


Zoro and his wife had complemented each other, both in life and in training, because they’d each possessed something the other needed.  


Zoro had lacked discipline and focus. Kuina had lacked a challenge, and therefore, motivation. Zoro possessed the brute strength, and the raw talent. Kuina possessed the hard-trained skill, the grace and speed.  


Tana, whether she knew it or not, was gifted with it all.  


And yet, what once might have inspired him, now only served to make Koshiro wonder how soon such potential would be snuffed out, taken by a terrible twist of fate, as had happened for both of her parents.  


Koshiro didn’t believe his thoughts were morbid, however, nor pessimistic.  


Humans were fragile. That was merely a fact of life…  


Tana had finished her phone call and stood, picking up her bokken again and striding back over to meet her grandpa.  


“That was Sanji,” she explained. “They’re about ten minutes away. I told him we’d be in here.”  


She lifted her bokken then, raised it in front of her.  


“One more time?” she asked, and after a beat, he nodded, lips pulling into a thin smile.  


The two moved apart, readied themselves.  


Koshiro said, “Begin,” and they started again.  


* * *

Sanji’s car rolled up in front of the dojo, and despite the tension that had hung in the air when he’d dropped Tana off that morning, he shut off the car and immediately opened the door, knowing Tana was in the dojo, as she’d said.  


“Come on, mosshead,” he said, still in a pretty damn good mood considering all he planned to do now after that Impel Down visit. Plans that would, hopefully, remove some sore spots from his life. For good this time. “Tana said she’s inside.”  


But the ex-swordsman hadn’t budged. He’d been talkative up until just a minute ago. Hell, they’d even had a ridiculous time stopping at the liquor store. Sanji had made fun of his horrible taste in alcohol, and Zoro had got on him for being prissy with his specialty wine. But it seemed, faced with this building again, it turned him right back into an unmoving mute.  


Honestly, the cook had forgotten---forgotten why this might happen.  


Zoro had surprised him that morning. The oaf had actually worked to motivate him. He hadn’t been resentful or angry with Sanji for dragging him along.  


No, he’d been a willing source of support, and he’d handled revisiting Impel Down with a strength Sanji hadn’t known him to possess. Until then, he’d only known him in moments of vulnerability, when he himself had the upper hand.  


But the cook was finding he rather liked it when the tables were turned---when Zoro rose to challenge _him,_ made him more sure of himself.  


He’d never met someone who, with just a _look,_ could hone his focus like it had that morning.  


He couldn’t expect everything to change _so_ suddenly though, and that was why he paused, halfway through getting out of the car, eyes falling on his companion.  


Zoro should face this, he knew. Even if it was just this small step. He could do it, surely.  


“Aren’t you coming?” he asked innocently, quirking a brow.  


Zoro didn’t look at him, a sick feeling rising in his gut.  


He hadn’t been able to enter this building since that day, that day when _everything_ had changed. He knew he would walk in and see her, no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much he’d moved on. He would see her, hear her, remember everything they shared together in this building---victory, love….loss.  


This building was more powerful than Impel Down, for him. This was the building where it had all began---and where it had all ended.  


The last time he’d exited the dojo, he’d been ushered out by police, in shock and stumbling, angry, grief-stricken, guilty, and _terrified_ above all else, watching Kuina’s lifeless form be carted into an ambulance as paramedics desperately fought a useless fight to revive her.  


It was too much. He could barely stand being around this building period, only sucking it up when he absolutely had to. This morning had been one of those times.  


And now….  


He’d never been pressured into going in. Koshiro had never insisted on it, and his daughter….well, she didn’t know what brutal significance it held. Not yet.  


Kuina wouldn’t want this, surely. She’d be disappointed that the very place that had built up all his strength was now the only place to weaken him.  


She wouldn’t want this, but he constantly found himself justifying it to himself, to _her,_ that he wasn’t ready. That he couldn’t do it. Not as he was…  


“Zoro.”  


He looked up, a little dazed, to see Sanji staring at him intently.  


“Let’s go,” the blond said, gesturing him out. “We gotta get Tana.”  


There was a patience and a casualness to his voice, but there was also deliberation. And Zoro got the feeling, not for the first time, that Sanji knew exactly what was going on inside his troubled mind.  


“I’ll wait in the car,” Zoro mumbled, with a tiny, somewhat foolish hope that Sanji would accept this answer and leave him be.  


But given what Sanji knew about his life, and the look of complete disappointment that crossed the cook’s face, Zoro knew he was in for an argument.  


“You’re really gonna sit here and swelter in the car? She’s practicing, she said. It might be a little while,” Sanji rationalized, tapping a finger on the steering wheel impatiently.  


“Then leave me the keys. M’just gonna shut my eyes for a bit. Didn’t sleep well last night,” Zoro tried with an air of finality that warned Sanji to _drop it_ already.  


It wouldn’t be that easy, because the cook merely huffed a frustrated breath.  


_“Zoro,”_ he sighed out heavily, shaking his head slightly. The blond’s gaze flicked to the building for a second, then back to him. “When was the last time you were in there….?”  


Now Zoro was sure of it. The bastard had guessed correctly the exact reason why the dojo had such an effect on him. Damn it all.  


He glared at Sanji with contempt, wishing the idiot would just take the hint and understand why this place was so fucking _painful._  


“It’s been---a while, cook, okay?” he grumbled, opting for a non-specific answer. He fidgeted uncomfortably under Sanji’s scrutinizing gaze. “Look, just---go in. The building splits like a ‘U’. Left or right---there’s training rooms on both sides---listen for the sound of---”  


“You just went to motherfucking Impel Down, Zoro,” Sanji interrupted, seemingly having no care for Zoro’s shitty distractions. “Your _prison!_ You went back there like it was fucking _nothing._ If you can do that, then you---”  


“Shut it!” Zoro growled, getting riled. “You’re not gonna _force_ me to do anything, asshole!”  


Sanji glared at him for a long moment, noting the way Zoro had leaned forward in his outburst, getting threateningly closer.  


His eyes flicked over Zoro’s form, then he sighed, raising eyebrows and frowning.  


“Fine,” he said, and got out of the car, adjusting his sleeves to stall a little more. “After today, just thought you had it in you…..” He ducked his head and looked at Zoro again one more time in silent challenge, knowing he’d be pushing a major button here. “I mean, if this is what your _wife_ would want…”  


_“You have no idea what she would want!”_ Zoro roared immediately, but Sanji saw it coming, even smirking with satisfaction. This was the reaction he’d wanted.  


“You keep saying that same shit,” he goaded. “So either I’m totally wrong with what I’ve assumed about her or....”  


Zoro listened to him trail off, breaths coming heavily as he tried to work through _why_ he continued to push away all talk of her when all he ever _did_ was remember her. He _never_ talked about her, and that was part of the reason why he felt so goddamn awful. Because he felt like she’d disappeared entirely in the outside world when she was still so vivid in his mind.  


He looked at Tana and saw her every day, but he said nothing….  


“I just thought,” Sanji pushed. “I dunno---that someone who was _Tana’s_ mother would never fall for a coward.”  


The cook shrugged nonchalantly and pushed off the car, backing up and shutting the door.  


Zoro watched him stick hands in his pockets and walk towards the entrance.  


He didn’t look back, but the slow speed at which he moved and the way he kicked at a few pebbles absently told Zoro he was waiting---ready and _waiting_ for Zoro to join him.  


Zoro’s heart beat hard in his chest, his eyes on Sanji the whole time, and it only served to fuel his anger…..though it was less at the blond and more at himself.  


The ex-swordsman quickly unbuckled his seatbelt before he even fully realized what he was doing, seething as he nearly kicked the door open and got out, slamming it shut.  


He practically stomped his way up to the cook, catching up to him and muttering a livid, _“I hate you,”_ as he passed.  


Sanji’s grin was in place from the instant he heard that door open.  


* * *

The dojo didn’t look old per se. It was clean and sturdy, and there was evidence of modern technology throughout. A speaker mounted on the wall here and there, a bulletin board near the entrance with colorful papers tacked to it.  


But, despite that, it certainly transported the visitor to a different time and place.  


And for Zoro, that time and place was an incredible mix of emotions as he stood in the genkan he hadn’t entered for over a year now, so odd when, from the age of ten, he’d been here nearly every day of his life.  


Lungs breathed in that nostalgic scent of incense, wood, and steel---the unique combination that would only ever remind him of his childhood, and home.  


He’d walked through these very doors thousands of times, kicked off ever-growing pairs of shoes over the years---light-up dinosaur sneakers, heavy combat boots, and leather dress shoes alike---and shoved them into his shoe box, all with the tingling anticipation of picking up a bamboo shinai, and later a real blade.  


He instantly longed to feel that familiar weight in his hands, feel the quiet power that never ceased to surge through him when he moved, his two katana, not objects, an extension of his body.  


He remembered being thirteen, making a bet with Kuina and rushing in so he could spar with her and _win_ finally. He’d tripped on this very step by the entrance, faceplanted on the floor and gotten a bloody nose. Kuina had laughed her ass off, and every time after, no matter how excited he was, he’d forced himself to slow down.  


He remembered bringing his daughter through these doors for the first time. She’d been a few days old, just home from the hospital, and yet they’d brought her. And he’d held her and talked to her as if she could understand every word he said, explaining every detail of the place he so loved, almost unaware he was doing it. Kuina had told him later she hadn’t bothered him because it had been too cute, to which he protested strongly.  


_Everything_ about this place brought back a memory, and he hadn’t even fully set foot inside.  


Sanji had entered beside him, pausing for a second to take in the surroundings.  


“This is so cool,” he breathed, then crouched down to start untying his shoes and slipped out of them, stepping up onto the hardwood floor beside the wall of shoe boxes.  


“Can I just stick my shoes in any?” he asked.  


Zoro looked at him, seeming to almost snap from a trance, and he dazedly nodded and moved to do the same.  


From there, Sanji hung back, clearly waiting for Zoro to lead the way.  


It was quiet, the dojo empty, but there was the occasional clack of wood against wood, followed by the sound of a rhythmic and practiced yell.  


The sounds drifted through from the hallway to the right, and, with no one else practicing, it had to be Tana and her grandpa.  


But Zoro didn’t move right away, frozen to the spot, still stuck in the spell of this place and a little afraid to move forward.  


So Sanji moved, gave Zoro a shove to his shoulder, and urged, “Come on,” with an encouraging smile.  


He padded across the wooden floor, careful not to slip in his socks, and meandered down the hallway, eventually having to turn where the hall hit a ninety degree angle.  


The blond glanced behind him to see if Zoro was following, and, surprisingly, he was, though he moved slowly and looked around him, taking in everything with a look of longing on his face.  


This was his home, obviously, and the cook couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind. But why the man would deny himself the comfort of returning all this time, he didn’t know. Even if bad things had happened here, surely there was more than enough good to counter that.  


Sanji let him follow in peace, overcome by a strange reverence as he moved past empty training rooms, some with tatami floors and others with special mats laid down. Light from the sun filtered through windows above the shoji doors, warm, rectangular blocks of light shining onto the floor as he passed the rooms, almost inviting him to step in and feel the warmth for himself.  


He wasn’t a religious person; he’d never gone to church. But it was a similar feeling, he thought, processing through here, following those simple, pure sounds.  


He followed them until he reached the second-to-last room. And he sucked in a breath upon looking in through the open doorway to find the doors on the opposite side open, letting in the sun and the breeze, revealing a traditional Japanese-style garden beyond, one that hadn’t been visible from the front of the building.  


_“Whoa…”_ he couldn’t help but breathe, in reaction to the scene, highly impressed with this place, for the second time.  


Inside, Tana and Koshiro were still practicing, Koshiro in his yukata, but Tana in just a T-shirt and light training pants.  


Sanji had never seen the kid in her element before, and he had to admit---for the split second before she noticed him, wielding her wooden blade and looking entirely focused as she assumed a fierce pose---this sword shit suited her perfectly.  


As soon as she did see him though, Tana broke formation, looking surprised for a moment, then she grinned.  


“Oh, hey, Sanji! Thought you’d text again. I could’ve just come outside,” she said, and hastily bowed to her grandpa to finish their set when she heard him clear his throat pointedly.  


“It’s fine,” the cook replied. “Kinda wanted to see inside this place anyway. It’s awesome.” He looked at Koshiro then, who had begun crossing the room with his granddaughter.  


“Hi, I’m Sanji Vinsmoke. Friend of Zoro’s,” he said, the words flowing out with little thought, and he offered a hand to the man.  


Tana’s grandpa reached out and took it with a smile and a nod of greeting.  


“Koshiro. I’m Tana’s grandfather. I’m glad to hear Zoro is making friends.”  


Sanji tried not to laugh, just thinking about the absurd circumstances that had forced them to meet, unsure if he would really call that ‘making friends,’ but, for simplicity’s sake, he let that story remain untold.  


“Yeah, he’s actually---”  


The cook trailed off and turned his head, looking for said maker-of-friends and noticing that Zoro had caught up to him. He was still moving just as slowly as before, but he’d caught up, and this brought a triumphant grin to Sanji’s face when Zoro finally joined him in the doorway.  


Koshiro’s brows rose, though they more twitched than anything, in subtle surprise, but he quickly resumed the same easy smile he’d worn before.  


Tana’s reaction was far more dramatic, however. Her eyes had widened, and her bokken dropped to the mats, forcing her to hurriedly pick it up along with her jaw, eyes on Zoro the whole time.  


Stupidly, she felt instantly embarrassed and stood up straight, transferring her bokken to her left hand. With her grandpa, often to his dismay, she was far more relaxed during practice, disciplined, but his quiet instruction and the rarity of major criticism had led her to be far more casual with him.  


But now, with her dad standing there, for the first time in forever, her proper sensei, she found her heart skipping a beat in her chest.  


Why? Why had he come in? He hadn’t since he’d come back from Impel Down…  


Her eyes flicked between her dad and Sanji, wondering if the cook had something to do with it. It was silly, but she felt her throat and eyes beginning to burn. As if she’d cry at a time like this.  


“Dad…” she managed to stutter. “Um…”  


But that was all she got out, unsure of what to say or do.  


Zoro didn’t reply, couldn’t really, only stood there staring at the familiar setting.  


This was the room in which he’d been evaluated for his san-dan rank.  


He and Kuina had also made out here once…  


“Hey, how ‘bout a demonstration while we’re here,” Sanji’s voice interrupted his thoughts, the cook’s elbow nudging into his, breaking his focus and forcing him to look at the blond.  


Sanji had a smile on his face, almost as if he were oblivious to the barrage of memories assaulting the ex-swordsman, but Zoro knew better.  


In fact, Sanji seemed to be looking to distract him a little.  


Koshiro chuckled lightly.  


“Very well,” he said. “Tana? Shall we start at _ippon-me?”_  


“Actually,” Sanji cut in. “I know it’s a little unconventional, but mind if I try?”  


This earned surprised reactions from all three of his companions, Koshiro being the first to ask, “Do you practice kendo?”  


“No! No, far from it,” Sanji assured quickly with a laugh. “But up until a year or so ago, I did savate. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s---”  


“A French martial art, yes,” Koshiro answered, bringing a hand to his chin. “This sounds interesting. You are free to spar if you wish. Tana, perhaps judo would be better suited in this ca---”  


“Kendo’s fine.”  


Tana’s shock at learning this new fact about Sanji still lingered on her face, but now there was determination too. Kendo was her dad’s specialty, and if she was being afforded this rare chance to have him _here_ and _watching_ again, then she’d damn well prove herself with what he loved.  


She noticed that something had sparked in her dad’s gaze too, his eyes narrowed and watching Sanji remove his suit jacket and socks with a new intensity.  


The cook carefully folded his jacket and laid it on the floor near the door, setting his balled-up socks on top, and stepped into the room, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to the elbow.  


“Might be a bit rusty,” Sanji said to Tana. “But don’t hold back, ‘kay?”  


She opened her mouth, looking about to say or ask something, but shut it instead and replied, “Kay,” still looking somewhat bewildered as she backed up towards the center of the room again.  


“I’m not big on using my hands, mostly my feet. Maybe now I can show you how I gave you that bruise, mosshead,” the cook shot over his shoulder to Zoro, who gaped and averted his gaze from Koshiro, not without a silently questioning glance from the other man.  


Zoro offered his father-in-law no explanation, just let out a quietly frustrated growl and muttered, “You hurt my daughter, I’ll come after you, cook.”  


“Relax. I haven’t done this in a while. She’ll sooner hurt me,” Sanji assured, now standing opposite Tana several paces away.  


She readied her position, then looked confused for a second.  


“Uh….do you bow or what…?” she asked, and he chuckled.  


“No, but we can if you want,” he replied, so they did.  


Tana lifted her bokken, and the two circled each other for a few paces.  


But then, Tana didn’t wait. She rushed forward, bokken at her side, then swung it down and around with a swift strike aimed right at Sanji’s head.  


Sanji’s reflexes were fast though, and he pivoted, twisting his body and bending with a kick, stretching a leg out like a blade of his own, strong enough to stop her attack without a flinch when the wooden bokken hit his shin.  


Tana reacted quickly, using the forward momentum of her strike to rotate herself and whip the bokken around her in an efficient arc to shoot for his stomach instead.  


“Good,” Koshiro murmured next to Zoro, glancing his way pointedly. “Her form hasn’t been that clean all day.”  


Sanji dropped himself to avoid the attack, coming low instead, hands on the floor as he whisked his leg out in an attempt to sweep beneath her feet.  


She danced over his attack agilely, however, and managed to bring her bokken around, using the height to her advantage and stopping the blade just over his head.  


“That’s one for me~” she proclaimed proudly, unable to hide the grin on her face as she backed away from Sanji.  


“Lucky shot,” he replied, though he was grinning too when he got to his feet.  


They went again, and after a longer minute of blade-on-foot clashes, Tana scored again with a feigned hit to Sanji’s chest, all because he’d tried to bend over backwards for one of his more flexible kicks. Except he was out of practice, and shit like that didn’t work without it.  


It left him with a very smug little girl before him, and the quickly voiced desire for a best three-out-of-five match.  


Zoro watched as they went again. He watched, with a steadily-tightening chest, the improved skill his daughter displayed, far superior to when he’d last seen her practice. She’d gained confidence, and it showed by the quick thinking and the corrections she made.  


He saw the way she watched Sanji’s movements, made lightning-fast judgments and responded. He saw the little roll of eyes she gave, just as Kuina used to do, when, this time, Sanji managed to kick her bokken out of position and scored himself a point.  


His daughter was incredible, and dammit, that should be _him_ out there, he realized with startling gravity. It should be _him_ making comments and critiques, coaching her. It should be him practicing katas and deep breathing, coaxing his daughter to continue through the boring parts with promises of ice cream or junk food later.  


She should be smiling at _him_ with that brilliant, confident happiness…  


And it should be _him_ smiling back. He should be the one to ruffle her hair and compliment her when she landed a hit. Not Sanji.  


Sanji.  


Once again, the cook was doing something he couldn’t. Somehow, he’d managed to fill that void perfectly again, and Zoro wasn’t sure how that was possible. The odds of it were next to none. And yet, there he was, sparring with his daughter and sharing something with her that had always been within their family only.  


This should have upset him, made him jealous or angry, and maybe just the day before it would have.  


But after everything that had happened that day…  


Sanji had brought him here. Sanji had forced him, as he hadn’t wanted, into this moment, which he _did_ want, so desperately. He wanted to see his daughter enjoying herself, doing what she loved, and he wanted to be a part of it.  


He wanted to be here, wanted to live and breathe these walls again, to have everything be okay and peaceful.  


He wanted to see Tana’s satisfied grin. And he wanted to see the pride on Kuina’s face when their daughter bested her….  


Only now, this _was_ happening again. What he wanted was happening before his eyes, but it was _Sanji_ now. Sanji, this man who’d appeared in his life so suddenly, had brought this peace to not only him, but his daughter as well.  


He didn’t know what to do.  


Before he knew it, Tana was laughing, excitedly declaring herself the winner after finally landing a third hit, and Sanji was pretending to grumble, wearing a stupid smile.  


The blond offered Tana a high-five, which she gladly took, smacking her hand to his enthusiastically.  


And then her gaze met Zoro’s, the exhilaration still there, but a flicker of vulnerability too. She wanted his judgment.  


What did he say? There was nothing that wouldn’t sound stupid in the moment, with Sanji knowing everything that was running through his mind, and Koshiro there as well.  


So he said nothing, but allowed a small wistful smile to tug at his lips, gave a tiny nod in hopes that his daughter would at least understand his pride.  


She seemed to, relief crossing her features, her own smile broadening for a second.  


Then she turned to Sanji, who was dramatically rubbing at his hip like an old man and once again justifying how rusty he’d been as he stepped over to the adults.  


“Sanji, wanna see our meito?” she asked eagerly.  


“Your what?” the blond replied, quirking an eyebrow.  


“Our meito,” she repeated. “Our family swords. Grandpa, can I show him?”  


Sanji noticed the older man’s near-perpetual smile falter for the first time. It was a brief instant, before he’d fixed it right back into place and nodded.  


But Sanji saw it. And he had to wonder why.  


“You may,” Koshiro allowed, and moved aside as Tana came closer.  


“Come on,” she said, gesturing for Sanji to follow her out into the hall. “They’re just in the other room.”  


“Okay, okay,” Sanji chuckled, shaking his head slightly and following her, squeezing past Zoro.  


“Coming, mosshead?” he asked as Tana strode towards the last training room at the end of the hall.  


But Zoro’s face had paled entirely, and in fact, Koshiro didn’t look too pleased either, his expression turning serious as soon as Tana was out of sight.  


Suddenly, a very bad feeling came over the cook, especially seeing the way Zoro clenched his jaw, swallowed hard, and looked away, more upset than he’d been the entire time.  


“Actually, I’d like to speak with Zoro, if that’s alright,” Koshiro cut in, and Sanji quickly nodded, letting him make that excuse. Because it was an excuse; he was sure of it.  


He almost didn’t want to follow the girl now, so obliviously beckoning him towards the room that he now feared held something he absolutely had no business intruding upon.  


Either he’d be gazing upon the weapon…..or the room where it had happened. Or both.  


It. The event that had changed a life forever. _Taken_ a life….  


A lump rose to his throat, but he couldn’t back out, not without confusing Tana.  


He wanted to apologize to Zoro, say _something_ \---but the man had already turned and begun heading briskly away down the hall, despite Koshiro’s words.  


Sanji watched him go with his breath caught in his throat and a sudden sharp pang of sadness in his chest.  


He slowly backed up a few steps, shooting a bit of a tight-lipped smile at Koshiro automatically before following Tana.  


She’d already slid open the door and entered the room like it was nothing, and Sanji found himself wishing he could enjoy the same ignorance as he stepped into what he’d deemed a sacred space, and one to be respected, even if he didn’t know exactly what past events had shaped this room or the objects in it.  


It looked just like the last room, save for one wall, into which a small stage was built, and on the stage, a large rectangular cabinet rested, made out of ornately carved wood, dragon patterns swirling over its surface.  


He stepped in, hushed and barely breathing, padding slowly over to Tana, not wanting to disturb a single thing.  


She’d stepped onto the raised stage and carefully swung open the cabinet doors to reveal not one, but three blades resting horizontally on small stands within, one at the top, and two staggered below.  


The grandeur of the moment was actually enough to have him briefly push the weight of the atmosphere to the back of his mind.  


He joined her on the stage, full of childlike wonder, just as he had been when Zeff had first shown him his prized knife collection. He felt that same sense of awe and appreciation when he viewed these blades.  


Tana watched him approach, smirking proudly at the amazement on his features. She felt light with excitement for this moment, sharing something so close to her with someone new.  


Maybe Sanji was an adult, but her friends hadn’t taken so much interest in kendo, so her interest never reached many people outside of her family. Oliver thought it was cool because of the weapons, but beyond that, the actual practice and traditions were beyond his attention span.  


Sanji really knew martial arts though, all of which required rigorous discipline and training across cultures. He understood. He actually _understood,_ and she _really_ hoped her dad had taken notice.  


“These two are Dad’s. This is Yubashiri,” she explained, indicating the shiny black-sheathed one at the bottom. Then she pointed to the one above it, one with a red sheath. “And this is Sandai Kitetsu. That one kind of creeps me out, to be honest. Dad always said it was cursed, but I dunno if that’s actually true. I used to catch him talking to it sometimes.”  


“To his sword?” Sanji muttered. “Jeez, just when I thought he couldn’t get crazier.”  


“Yeah,” Tana replied with a snicker. “And technically, they’re not swords. Swords have two edges to the blades. These are katana. They only have one.”  


“Oh,” Sanji said, smirking. “My bad.” But then he paused, blinking for a second as a thought came over him. “Wait…..katana…..” he said, seeming to mull over the word as he said it. “Hold on, is that where you got your name from?”  


“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” she confirmed. “It was Dad’s idea. Mom made sure I knew that.”  


Sanji gave a withering sigh, shaking his head.  


“Why am I not surprised,” he huffed. “That’s like...a surfer naming their kid ‘Board’....”  


Tana giggled in response.  


“He challenged my mom to a drinking contest before I was born and if he won, he got to name their first kid. Mom always said I could change it when I turn eighteen.”  


“Will you?” Sanji asked.  


“I haven’t decided yet,” she admitted with a grin. “But Mom offered to call me a different name until then if I wanted.”  


Sanji laughed.  


“I like your mother.”  


This, unexpectedly, earned him the brightest smile he thought he’d seen from the kid. It happened fast, but it was powerful, and caused his own heart to flutter because he recognized what she must be feeling. It happened to him any time someone remembered his own late mother fondly, though it was far more infrequent now.  


He made a point to give the kid more moments like that, if he could.  


“This one is hers actually,” Tana was saying, singling out the top blade, the most spectacular of them all, even in its sheath. “It’s called Wado Ichimonji.”  


It was sleeved in a brilliant pure white, its hilt decorated with an elegant geometric pattern, silver and gold accents weaving together to give the piece an otherworldly feel.  


The smile was still present on Tana’s face, though the way she looked over at Sanji was almost a little shy, and he knew that what he did next would probably be significant to her.  


He stepped closer to examine it in more detail, spending a good long minute studying it up close, and it wasn’t just for show. The weapon was beautiful and mesmerizing, and yet he could sense the powerful aura that emanated from it.  


“This one seems like the strongest one,” he murmured, and he meant it, eyes still roving over Wado intently.  


Behind him, Tana had smiled again and nodded fervently, even though Sanji wasn’t looking.  


“I think so too,” she agreed.  


* * *

By the time Sanji, Tana, and Koshiro emerged from the entranceway, Zoro had been standing, leaning against Sanji’s car for a short while, trying to get his breathing back under control and attempting to erase all traces of the tears he hadn’t been able to stop, no matter how much he’d tried to blink them back.  


He’d done it. He’d gone in, gotten so far....but then he’d failed, let himself be overcome by the fear and pain when faced with that room, and he’d pulled the cowardly move yet again, retreating when he should have advanced.  


Would he get another opportunity? Would he even be able to do it on his own…?  


Sanji was thanking Koshiro, him and Tana bidding the man farewell before coming towards the car.  


Zoro gave one last hasty scrub over his face with his hand and got in quickly when Sanji unlocked the doors.  


His gaze was firmly fixed out the window and out of sight as the other two entered the car, chatting amiably about various things in the dojo.  


He was silent, and neither of them said a word about his sudden disappearance, for which he was glad.  


In fact, it was soothing to focus on their conversation as they began the drive home.  


Almost as if things were really back to normal…  


Things had certainly begun to change, he could admit. This day had shown him that.  


But maybe he needn’t always rely on others to spark that change...  


* * *

Sanji pulled up to the curb outside Zoro and Tana’s apartment building for the third time that week. It wasn’t even that late, early afternoon, but it had still been a taxing few hours, emotionally as well as physically.  


He was certain he’d be sore the next day, thanks to that short sparring practice….which was pathetic considering he’d gone up against a kid and still lost. At least it had let him blow off some steam after the meeting with Ichiji. Not to mention it had also gotten him thinking a lot about getting back into training…  


“Thanks, Sanji,” Tana was saying, leaning forward and gripping the front two seats after unbuckling. “I didn’t know you could legit fight. It was pretty cool.”  


“What, did you think I just got lucky with that hit to your dad’s face?” he teased. “I want a rematch sometime. And you won’t get off so easily~”  


She stuck her tongue out at him and grinned cheekily, sliding closer to the door.  


She noticed her dad wasn’t moving from his seat yet though, so she hesitated.  


“Coming, Dad?” she asked, quirking a brow at the back of his seat.  


“Go ahead in,” Zoro said, the first proper thing he’d said during the whole car ride. And he turned around to hand her the apartment keys. “I’ll just be a sec.”  


Her brow furrowed in confusion, though a tiny smile worked its way onto her lips that she immediately tried to hide.  


“Ooookay,” she drew out with a shrug, taking the keys. Then she opened her door, dragging her backpack after her and throwing it over her shoulder. “Later, Sanji,” she called before shutting the door and striding into the building.  


The cook chuckled, watching her go.  


“She gets real goofy when she’s smug, huh,” he noted, looking to Zoro to see if he’d react.  


He didn’t get much of one though, just a soft exhale as the other man looked down at his lap.  


Sanji didn’t know why Zoro had wanted to stay. He must’ve had something to say, but he wasn’t saying it.  


He decided not to push the man just yet though, so, instead, Sanji said something he’d been meaning to say.  


“Thanks for coming with me today,” he said sincerely. “I know you were forced to, but….still….appreciated the company.”  


Zoro didn’t look up, only twisted fingers absently in the lapel of his discarded jacket.  


“S’not you who should be saying thanks…” Zoro mumbled.  


Sanji’s eyes lit up.  


It wasn’t a proper show of gratitude, no, and after the events at the dojo, he hadn’t exactly been expecting or wanting one, but this was probably the best ‘thank you’ he’d get out of Zoro.  


He could have replied with something cheeky in return, and that was indeed his first instinct. But he compelled himself to be a little more mature, a little more sensitive, knowing how emotionally compromised Zoro had become since picking up his daughter.  


“Tomorrow I’m going to the bank,” Sanji stated casually. “Gonna get the shit my brother wanted and take it to the police. You’re welcome to come with if you wanna dole out some sweet justice.”  


Zoro snorted.  


“I’ll pass. Think I got better shit to do.”  


His short reply inexplicably stung a little, and Sanji wasn’t sure why. He’d actually found himself _hoping_ that the dumb mosshead _would_ join him. They’d started this shit together. They might as well finish it together.  


“Oh?” he asked, trying to keep from sounding too prickly. “Like what?”  


For the first time, Zoro turned his head to look at him, leveled the other man with his gaze.  


“Like quitting my job,” Zoro said, and Sanji couldn’t help it. His jaw dropped open.  


It left him stammering for a second, trying to find the right words before he settled for the truth.  


“Think that’s the best idea you’ve had yet, mosshead,” he replied, a slow smile spreading across his face.  


Zoro actually smiled too, not a big one, but it reached his eyes at least.  


“You’re not gonna call me dumb?” he asked.  


“Not about that, no,” Sanji assured. “Anything else is fair game though. Like…..naming your daughter after a sword, for instance--”  


“Hey!” Zoro protested. “I won a challenge fair and squa----wait, how the hell do you know about that?”  


“Get out of my car, shit swordsman~ And take your damn booze too!” came Sanji’s instant reply, the cook giving an innocent wave of his hand.  


“But---!”  


“Bye~”  


Sanji grinned, and Zoro groaned, undoing his seatbelt, then opened the door to clamber out.  


_“Bye~”_ the blond crooned again sweetly just before Zoro slammed it shut in his face and flipped him off. He moved to the trunk, which Sanji opened for him, to take out the huge case of beer he’d bought on their way to pick up Tana, hefting it easily over his shoulder before stalking towards his building.  


He didn’t know how the shitty cook did it, made him want to kick the guy’s ass at the same time he started smiling like a moron.  


Well, okay. Maybe this time he knew.  


Sanji had called him a ‘swordsman,' something he hadn’t considered himself to be for a long time.  


* * *

For the rest of that afternoon and the next morning, things had gone surprisingly back to normal for the cook. He’d put in a few hours at the restaurant, mostly helping with some administrative work and ingredient ordering as he usually did on days he technically had off.  


But it was annoying how weird it felt to just continue his life as usual when he’d had such an eventful weekend.  


It was a curious feeling of anticipation, as if he had something exciting coming up, like a kid waiting anxiously for a school trip or a big holiday.  


It was a feeling he hadn’t had for a few years, and while he’d spent the better part of the evening trying to figure out why it felt so familiar, it didn’t hit him full force until he was in the car the next morning, a pleasant ache in his muscles, on the way to the bank.  


It was the same feeling he’d had shortly after meeting Pudding...  


* * *

After he’d met Kuina, it had all become clear to Zoro what direction he wanted his life to head in. Until her, kendo had been just a hobby, something his uncle had gotten him into both to share his own profession and to keep the kid from breaking shit in his house.  


But Kuina had focused him and motivated him in a way no one had expected, and that was how he felt now, the next day, striding purposefully down the hall towards Crocodile’s office, hours ahead of his work time, with one goal in mind.  


He hadn’t wanted any harm to come to his daughter because of his involvement in his boss’ shady deals.  


But what he’d realized the day before, seeing Sanji enter into his _very_ personal world, was that he also was very much against the cook leaving it now too. Sanji’s entry hadn’t felt intrusive, as it often did with most other people.  


No, instead, he’d fit in infuriatingly well, and while it still bugged the _hell_ out of him that the bastard _had_ been able to do such a thing, he knew that if he kept working for Crocodile, with the shit he now knew, it wouldn’t end well.  


And this time, if he could predict a bad ending, then he was damn well going to do what he could to stop it.  


He’d stopped in the locker room, gathered everything of his that he still kept in there, thrown it in a bag over his shoulder, and now he stood before Crocodile’s door.  


It was early. He’d come here straight after seeing Tana off to school, but he knew his boss would be in.  


So without further ado, he pushed the door open without knocking and strode in unannounced.  


Sure enough, at the far end of the room, his boss was seated there, in his massive leather chair, already poring over some paperwork, Bones standing quietly in full uniform at the side of the room.  


Both of them looked up, and though Bones betrayed a look of subtle surprise, Crocodile didn’t, his expression passive and unchanging as he watched Zoro step into the room.  


Zoro didn’t wait for Crocodile to speak, and in fact, it didn’t seem like the man was going to, merely waiting with thin patience for Zoro to explain himself, so he did.  


“I just wanted to let you know I’m quitting,” he stated resolutely. “I can’t do two weeks’ notice or anything. M’done today.”  


A long moment of silence followed, during which Crocodile slowly set down his pen, removed his glasses and placed them carefully onto his desk.  


Fingers he laced in front of him, looking at Zoro, face stony.  


“And your reason for leaving?” he asked calmly.  


Zoro didn’t let his guard down, knowing that just because his boss sounded collected, that didn’t make the situation any less dangerous.  


“I don’t want involved in all this. This business with Big Mom. This isn’t what I signed up for,” he justified, knowing that anywhere else, that would be an acceptable answer. But Crocodile’s world worked a little differently.  


The man continued to stare Zoro down, removing his cigar from his mouth and blowing out a stream of smoke before replacing it.  


“I’m to believe this has nothing to do with the Vinsmoke boy?” he asked, but Zoro stood his ground.  


“Look. I went with him; I listened. Ichiji wants Big Mom behind bars, but as far as I know, Sanji isn’t going to help him. He hates his brothers.” This wasn’t a lie, after all. “I did what you asked, but now I’m done. I know you don’t tolerate disloyalty, so I’d rather quit while I’m ahead.”  


Crocodile noted the resolution in Zoro’s voice and words with a calculating gaze.  


Zoro had never seemed like a person to worry about in the past, at least on the surface. The man was stoic, serious, and he didn’t seem to be the brightest. With time spent in Impel Down and nothing to lose, the man had been sent his way at a low point in his life, and normally, Crocodile would have thought nothing of it.  


If it hadn’t been Robin Nico who’d sent him.  


She’d been his personal assistant many years ago, back when he was still the President of the National History Museum. It was a coveted job, a well-respected job, and Robin had been an admittedly useful asset to his cause.  


However, she’d surpassed him, and due to his repeated failure to procure a series of grants vital to keeping the museum alive, the Board of Directors had eventually appointed her as president, along with her promises to expand the museum’s outreach and collection on a global scale.  


But if they’d just trusted him for a little while longer, he could’ve done it, he knew. He could’ve gotten the funding, and he could’ve obtained the most universally sought-after artifacts. The Poneglyphs which were so coveted...  


That was twelve years ago now, and unfortunately for him, Robin had succeeded. The museum was thriving, and she’d made good on her promise to greatly enrich its collection at substantial profit.  


Thankfully, a hefty inheritance and real estate had kept him afloat, but deep down, he resented the woman, for stripping him of the first, and perhaps only position he’d felt genuinely passionate about. The one he’d felt most qualified to do, especially with a family history that traced its roots back to the Poneglyphs’ very land of origin.  


In his eyes, Robin Nico was a manipulative and sneaky woman, and it seemed he’d been right to be wary of anyone that came with her recommendation. Not to mention someone who apparently felt so indebted to a Vinsmoke.  


If Zoro was quitting, then he had to assume the man was looking to escape retribution, especially to protect his daughter. And this had him deduce that, in truth, things had seemingly not gone in Big Mom’s favor. For if they had, then surely Zoro would have seen no reason to escape.  


Crocodile sighed heavily and tapped his cigar in an ashtray.  


“Very well, Roronoa,” he answered simply. “But know that henceforth we shall no longer be allies. You will not be warned or consulted with about anything that should happen from this moment on.”  


Zoro’s eyes instantly narrowed, glaring at the man with renewed suspicion.  


“What the hell is that supposed to mean? What would happen?”  


But Crocodile merely shook his head and picked up his pen again, clearly done with the conversation.  


“You may see yourself out,” was all he replied with as he directed his attention back to his paperwork in obvious dismissal.  


Zoro continued to stand there for a few breaths, honestly a little surprised that this was the reaction he’d received. He’d expected Crocodile to be irate, to question him further in order to find out if he was lying, especially after that threat on the phone, but no. Instead, that was the last he said, and it was like Zoro had ceased to exist.  


Bones had looked away as well, though he seemed ready to pounce at any moment, at his boss’ command.  


Zoro didn’t want that to happen, so he turned on his heel, taking the hint and heading out without causing any further trouble.  


The door shut behind him, and Crocodile looked up again, staring at the closed door through which Zoro had left.  


He’d meant it; he was no longer allied with that man now. And it was for that reason that a thought crossed his mind, one he’d stifled recently in the interest of being courteous to his employee and with whom he was acquainted. He did have some class left in him, after all.  


But now....perhaps Zoro’s departure could work to his advantage when working to achieve his long-term goal.  


The man reached over to pick up his desk phone, golden rings clicking against the receiver when he brought it to his ear and began dialing a number.  


The person who picked up wasn’t who he wanted to speak with, so he opted to leave a message, knowing any subordinate of Big Mom’s would relay it to her promptly.  


“This is Crocodile. Tell her Zoro Roronoa no longer works for me anymore. And I have reason to believe the Vinsmoke boy will not be cooperating. To put it succinctly, she correctly predicted the outcome. We may be putting Hody behind bars very soon.”  


* * *

It was a liberating feeling, to have freed himself from one stress in his life, and while Zoro had no fucking idea what he was going to do next, it felt good.  


He didn’t know if what Crocodile had said about cutting ties was something to be worried about, but when he felt this unrestricted for the first time in a while, he found himself not caring just then.  


He’d texted Robin on his way home and told her what had happened, knowing she wouldn’t reply right away since she was at work. She’d probably have questions for him later though, he assumed.  


And that would’ve been it. That would’ve been the extent of the people he’d tell, these days at least. Franky and Robin would know, and he preferred that Koshiro didn’t. He didn’t want any further judgment from the man, and he worried that quitting his job would hint to him being unstable.  


That was far from the case. Hell, today, he was feeling more stable than he had in a long-ass time.  


The day before had been tough, painfully emotional, but he’d woken up this morning with a light feeling in his chest, and for the first time since he’d returned from his sentence, the absence in his heart didn’t feel like a gaping wound. It still hurt, but it was less of a constant.  


He and Tana hadn’t spoken much about what had occurred, both at Impel Down and, more importantly, at the dojo. He’d told her things with Sanji had gone okay, that he wouldn’t need to go back, and that had seemed to appease her.  


In fact, her mood had improved dramatically, enough so that, the next morning before school, she was almost chipper, something that seemed out of character now, but hadn’t always been.  


When he’d returned from Impel Down, he’d come back to a different kid than he remembered. A kid who was far more sullen and cynical than she should have been at such a young age, and he knew that was his fault.  


It had scared him, because he hadn’t recognized his own daughter, nor she him, most likely.  


He’d felt alone.  


But now his thumb hovered over the ‘Curly Brow’ entry in his phone, and in fact, he tapped it, opening up a new chat window.  


_‘I did it,’_ he wrote. _‘Just finished at croc’s.’_  


Sanji’s reply came only a few seconds later.  


_‘Nice. Now what? Back to the bottom of the lake with the algae?’_  


It was an annoying as fuck reply, but still Zoro smirked.  


_‘Better than flipping burgers all day,’_ he teased, and laughed when he saw Sanji begin to type _immediately_ after, replying with an eloquent keysmash, then sending a _‘First of all,’_ before typing yet more in a long-winded message.  


He was quite content to wait for whatever dumb retort the cook came back with.  


* * *

Sanji’s back-and-forth with Zoro lasted all the way through the long wait he had at the bank before finally obtaining, in a classified envelope, the entire transaction history of his family’s account.  


It left him grinning like a fool and forgetting all about the importance of the documents in hand.  


He’d honestly never had this, someone he could completely rip to shreds if he wanted, because he knew the guy would just come right back and tear into him with equal measure. He could tease Ace and Luffy all he wanted, but the fact remained that neither of the brothers ever got mad about it, and that meant half the fun was missing.  


How the fuck had this happened? Why was this complete asshole turning out to be a _cool_ asshole? One he actually wanted to talk to and spend time with?  


It was weird as hell, but maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. Zoro reminded him of Zeff a little, and for all their banter, Zeff was one of his most cherished people, though he’d _never_ admit that out loud.  


Did he _cherish_ Zoro? Fuck no. The mere thought made him cringe, but was he glad for the distraction and glad for the fact that Zoro could bounce back after such a melodramatic Sunday? Yes. Absolutely.  


He was heading to the police station with the intent of incriminating someone for the second time in his life.  


And there was a fucking shitty spring in his step.  


* * *

The city’s police building took up a sizable chunk of a block, and was damn confusing inside. For a place that often dealt with emergencies, Sanji sure didn’t understand why the main lobby was a sprawling maze of departments and waiting areas.  


Thankfully, he knew exactly where to go, making his way through the bustling place towards the back where there was a separate area to get in contact with the chief. Last time, he’d come speeding through like a flustered maniac. This time, he was completely calm.  


The cook approached a desk, behind which sat a young man in uniform with shaggy pink hair, circular purple glasses pushed up on his forehead, a curious X-shaped scar just above his right eyebrow.  


_‘Coby,’_ his nametag read, and he glanced up from his computer screen upon seeing Sanji approach.  


“Hello,” the man said, a friendly smile on his face. “Can I help you?”  


“Yes,” Sanji replied, leaning forward over the counter. “I’m Sanji Vinsmoke. Is Captain Smoker in?”  


Coby’s smile turned apologetic, and he shook his head.  


“I’m sorry, I’m afraid he’s not right now. He’s out on a case. But would you like me to find someone else for you to speak with?”  


Sanji thought about it, then decided against it. He wanted this to go to Smoker and Smoker only.  


“No need,” he answered, instead sliding the manila envelope across the counter towards the man. “Can you see he gets this? He might find it interesting. I know he’s been looking for evidence against a certain Charlotte family.”  


“Oh,” Coby said, looking a little surprised, but he took the envelope and managed another smile. “Alright. Thank you, sir. I’ll see he receives it. I’m sure if he has any questions, he will contact you. Assuming it’s okay to tell him your name?”  


“It is,” Sanji allowed with a nod. “He and I have a bit of history already.”  


* * *

When Tana walked through their apartment door that afternoon after school, having taken the bus home, she was wondering what she would find.  


After all, her dad was usually either leaving or already on his way to work by now, meaning she’d be on her own. Oliver hadn’t said anything about her dad wanting her to go to his house, so she’d just come straight home.  


She was a little young to be left alone, by some parents’ standards, but it wasn’t like she’d be getting into any trouble, and she always kept the door locked and never answered it.  


So when she stepped through the door, she was a little surprised to find her dad still home….and looking quite comfortable on the couch in a T-shirt and jeans, a beer in hand and the TV on, though his eyes were glued to his phone. He wasn’t even scrambling to get ready for work or anything.  


“What are you doing here?” she asked, shutting the door behind her and stepping into the kitchen, where she dropped her backpack and kicked off her shoes at the door. “Don’t you have work?”  


He looked over and sat up a little straighter, reaching out to grab the remote and shutting off the TV for some reason.  


“Um…” he stuttered, caught off-guard by her entrance, and she narrowed her eyes in confusion. Eventually, he sighed. “Can you come over here…? I don’t wanna scream across the room to tell you this…”  


Immediately, worry shone in her eyes, a gut reaction.  


Any time she’d been asked to come closer, or to sit down to hear something…...well, it had never been good, to put it lightly.  


The fear must have shown on her expression, because she saw Zoro’s face fall a little and he let out a breath.  


“Don’t….look like that,” he murmured guiltily. “Everything’s okay.”  


He beckoned her closer again, and this time, she shuffled over tentatively, wariness still on her features, as if she didn’t quite trust that everything really was fine.  


Tana joined him in the room, stopping at the other end of the couch and slowly lowering herself down, watching him carefully.  


Zoro didn’t hesitate, a forceful exhale leaving him before he came right out and said, “I quit my job.”  


This was certainly not the news Tana had been expecting, and she was silent for a second, frowning and raising a brow.  


“Really...?” she asked, with nothing better to say.  


He nodded.  


“Yeah. I…..my boss….was tryin’ to get me involved with shit I didn’t wanna get involved with. And it was stuff that I didn’t want to affect you or…yeah.”  


He trailed off, thumb scrolling absently up and down the chat window that was still open on his phone as he shot her a sheepish tilt of lips.  


Her eyes drifted down, and she noticed the ‘Curly Brow’ at the top of his text screen.  


Tana let out a breath, trying to make sense of everything, though there was a strangely pleasant tingle in her chest.  


“Um….so...what are we gonna do? Are we gonna be homeless?” she asked, and this actually elicited a chuckle from her dad.  


“Nah. Not yet at least. I can do rent for a few months. Just gotta...look for something else, I guess. Might be tight for a bit though,” he admitted, shrugging and rubbing at the back of his neck.  


“Oh,” she replied simply. “Okay.”  


Zoro quirked a brow at her.  


“You’re not mad…?”  


She shook her head.  


“It’s your job, not mine. And as long as we have wifi, guess I can survive.”  


This had Zoro letting out a small sigh of relief, as he’d been rather foolishly nervous about breaking the news for some reason. He was kind of rocking the boat here as far as stability went, and he’d worried how Tana would take it.  


But she seemed okay, and he had to appreciate his daughter and her maturity. He had to make things better for her, he knew, and this was certainly a big step in the right direction. But her support made it that much easier.  


“Thanks,” he mumbled, finally stopping his anxious fiddling with his phone. “I, uh….was kinda nervous to tell you.”  


“Why?” she asked, smiling slightly at her dad’s honesty. “This is good, don’t you think? Your work schedule totally sucked.”  


He huffed out a breathy laugh, running a hand over his mouth and nodding.  


“Yeah,” he agreed. “Definitely wanna get something better.”  


Tana watched him, wondered if she should say what came to her mind next. A few days ago, she wouldn’t have, but now, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t freak out.  


“You could….I dunno, go work at a gym or…..come back to the dojo,” she suggested quietly, about as good at sounding casual as her father apparently, and that was to say, not very.  


Her suggestion hit him hard because he’d thought about it. The instant he’d set foot in that building the day before, he’d wanted to come back.  


Technically, he could. He’d have to redo his instructor test and get the license again, having had it revoked, but it had been over a year so he _could._ He was eligible.  


Could he do it mentally, was the real question.  


His silence seemed to disappoint his daughter, who’d wilted a bit, averting eyes and quieting her voice even more when she added, “I dunno, just….thought it might be cool after….well, you came yesterday and that was…..nice…”  


It hurt his heart, pained him to see her so unsure again, especially after she’d shown such confidence.  


He acted before he was even fully aware, parental instincts kicking in just as they used to, uninhibited by the pain and awkwardness that had divided them for so long.  


He scooted over on the couch to sit beside her, leaning forward on his knees and sighing.  


“That _would_ be pretty cool…” he murmured in agreement, and turned to look at her with a little smirk.  


She looked back at him, a brow quirking slowly, and the corner of her lips lifting the tiniest bit.  


He sat up and rose a hand, trailing it gently over her hair, tucking it back behind her ear tenderly.  


“You got _nanahon-me_ down finally,” he said. “Remember when you couldn’t get your left foot in line?”  


“Yeah,” she breathed. “But now I’ve done it a million times. It’s super easy.”  


“Told ya,” he replied with a grin. “Practice. _And_ you kicked the cook’s ass. That was kind of awesome.”  


She laughed, a broad grin coming to her face as well.  


“Hell yeah~ But _you_ should fight him sometime. He _really_ won’t know what to do.”  


Zoro snickered, imagining that match-up and finding it was definitely something he wanted to see. The dumb look on Sanji’s face when met with a real blade.  


Fuck---a twinge of familiar fear and sorrow shot through him, but this time, he pushed it down, choosing instead to focus on his daughter---the _future_ \---instead of the past.  


“Do you really think I can do it…?” he asked quietly in a moment of vulnerability, and it wasn’t just about this. It was about everything---telling his daughter the truth---getting things back to how they _were,_ how they _should be._  


“You’re the Pirate Hunter, remember?” Tana replied with a shrug, recalling the silly superhero persona he’d taken on for several Halloweens, smiling when she saw him crack one. “You can do anything.”  


Maybe, just maybe, he could start to believe that again.


	10. Slipping

**__**

**_Two weeks later…_ **

****

* * *

****

“Yo. It’s me.”

****

_“No shit it’s you! What do you want? I’m in the middle of a shift.”  
_

****

“You still picked up.”  


****

_“Well, yeah, but---just, what do you want? Make it quick.”  
_

****

__

****

“Two orders of sesame chicken. An order of orange chicken. Fried rice---”  


****

__

****

_“What the hell?! This isn’t a fucking Chinese place---!”  
_

****

__

****

“And how ‘bout a ride when your shift’s over---”  


****

__

****

_“Zoro! I’ve driven you around for three days in a row! You can’t just---!”  
_

****

__

****

“I’m between jobs right now, cook. You’re not being very understanding.”  


****

__

****

_“Because you’re fucking mooching! Ask your other friends---! Or get a car! Actually no, on second thought, don’t. You’ll never be able to fi---”  
_

****

“Tana really wants your cooking again.”  


****

A _heavy_ sigh on the other end of the phone.  


****

_“I just cooked for you guys two days ago…”  
_

****

“So do it again. I’ll bring wine.”  


****

Another heavy sigh and some near unintelligible grumbling.  


****

_“Fine. But I really can’t give you a ride. I don’t get off till seven. Get to my place at seven thirty. And don’t be late or the kitchen is closed!”  
_

****

“Deal. Later, cook.”  


****

No reply, just a grunt on the other end, and Zoro grinned triumphantly, ending the call.  


****

He came back into the training room from the hallway, a smug expression on his face when his daughter looked over at him, lowering her bokken and leaning against it casually.  


****

“Mission accomplished?” Tana asked, and he nodded.  


****

“Mission accomplished,” Zoro confirmed. “We gotta go over at seven thirty. He can’t pick us up. And we’ll have to stop for wine first.”  


****

“Okay,” she said with a shrug, then lifted her bokken, giving it a confident twirl in her hand. “So, you gonna actually take me on this time or are you just gonna watch?”  


****

He rolled his eyes, catching the bokken mid-twirl and shooting her a stern look.  


****

“If you’re gonna mess around, then we’re done,” he warned, forcibly returning the weapon to its proper position by her side.  


****

She giggled, but brought it back to her side and stood up a little straighter as per his request.  


****

Two weeks ago, her dad had first set foot in the dojo again, and, only a day or two after that, he’d spoken with her grandfather, surprising him greatly when he told him he was looking to come back.  


****

And from that day forth, he’d slowly accustomed himself to returning. He wasn’t teaching classes like he used to, nor had he actually picked up a weapon. But he’d begun watching her again, coaching her, and she’d even caught him meditating alone a few times.  


****

It wasn’t yet like it used to be, but it was still almost too good to be true, and, to Tana, it still felt like it could shatter any second, no matter how happy she was. She worried that one wrong move or one bad memory would trigger her dad and cause him to leave again.  


****

That was why she quickly got herself back in line whenever he asked, not wanting him to think she wasn’t serious because she _wanted_ this, even if it was happening slowly. She wanted it so much.  


****

“Go again,” he said. “From the beginning.”  


****

And she realized, with a little disappointment, that he wasn’t going to demonstrate. But she nodded and stepped back, eager to please him.  


****

Tana resumed her ready position, bokken held out before her, and as her dad softly counted out loud, she went through the little footwork routine they’d developed, pivoting and shifting her body almost like a dance, reacting quickly from whatever position she was in when her dad interjected his counting with “Strike.”  


****

It was mainly meditative, a way to review her movements and relax, train her body to remember.  


****

Occasionally, Zoro would step in, catching her bokken mid-swing to adjust the height of her arm, or her grip on the hilt, and these were times she’d take the opportunity to look at him, wondering what he was thinking and why he had yet to pick up a weapon. What could possibly be holding him back when it was clear he still remembered everything perfectly?  


****

She missed her mother immensely, but practicing kendo was a way she felt closer to her, almost like her mom was still right there with her. Wouldn’t her dad feel that way as well?  


****

Every time she’d thought to ask him about it, she’d ultimately kept quiet, not wanting to disturb the way things were slowly improving. Everything still felt far too delicate.  


****

‘Delicate’ was not a word to describe Sanji’s entrance into their lives, however.  


****

Ever since those first few days, the cook had basically kicked his way in with no signs of butting out, and while Tana had always been just fine with that, it sure seemed like, now, her dad was too. She could tell the two had become fast friends, as much as they both tried to deny it. But it was obvious how much they had in common, and it was obvious that they were, perhaps, the two people in the world who could take all of the other’s shit and dole it right back with equal measure.  


****

It was why her dad now felt so damn comfortable insisting Sanji cook for them or give them rides. The blond would do it, because, somehow, despite how much of an asshole her dad liked to say he was, he was probably the most caring asshole they knew.  


****

And Tana had to wonder. Was it Sanji’s similarities to her mother that were drawing her father in, deepening their budding friendship?  


****

Zoro seemed completely oblivious to this fact, however, at least outwardly, though his eagerness was palpable when he finally, after checking the hour, deemed it time to stop and get ready to head to Sanji’s.  


****

“Did you finish your homework?” he asked, watching her as she stowed the bokken back in the room’s storage closet.  


****

“No,” she answered sheepishly, shooting a guilty grin over her shoulder before walking over to shut the shoji doors to outside as well. Homework had, admittedly, become less of a priority ever since they’d started coming back to the dojo nearly every afternoon.  


****

“Oh,” he replied. “Well, bring it to the cook’s then.”  


****

He honestly didn’t care if he was being pushy and going against everything he’d initially said about the cook. It was the stability, the added support from someone who _got it_ that he was subconsciously craving.  


****

Franky and Robin had always been amazing. Still were, and he knew he’d never be able to repay them for everything they’d done and continued to do for him and his daughter, but they had a family of their own. And even if he’d had no choice at times, he still felt bad asking them for help.  


****

Now, with the cook….well, it wasn’t like the guy had anything going on besides his job. Zoro didn’t feel nearly as insecure going to him for shit.  


****

Tana made her way across the room to him, and moved to shut out the lights, trying and failing to push her growing bangs out of her eyes, the hair in need of a trim, _just_ long enough to get in the way.  


****

He heard her little frustrated huff, so he stepped over without thinking and muttered, “Hair clip?”  


****

The surprise was evident on his daughter’s face, especially when he stuck out a hand insistently for one. She blinked at him for a second, then rummaged in the pocket of her sweatpants where she thought she’d stuck one earlier.  


****

Sure enough, she did have one, and while she was more than capable of clipping it back herself, she still handed it over to her dad, who stepped forward and gently finger-combed her hair away from her eyes. He twisted the offending clump back against her head and clipped it there, smoothing out the hair below before he brought his hand to the side of her head in an affectionate gesture, then turned away.  


****

“Let’s go,” he said over his shoulder with a fleeting smirk, and headed out into the hallway, flipping the lights off and plunging her into darkness.  


****

“Hey!” she yelped, and scurried after him quickly, touching a hand to the clip secured in her hair.  


****

Her dad had been surprisingly good at braiding hair in the past, smugly claiming it to be like wrapping ito around blade handles. 

****

Maybe tomorrow, she’d ask him to do it again…  


****

The two headed down the long hallway, poking their heads briefly in the office to tell Koshiro they were leaving before returning to the entrance to put on shoes and jackets once more.  


****

Her dad took her heavy backpack, full of textbooks, threw it over his shoulder, and they headed out the door into the advancing dusk.  


****

It would be a short walk to the subway station, and another at the end of the trip to the Baratie, but neither of them really minded.  


****

After all, things weren’t so awkward anymore.  


****

* * *

****

Zoro nudged his daughter repeatedly in the shoulder as she climbed the stairs behind the Baratie ahead of him, just to bug her, snickering when she looked back at him with an annoyed glare.  


****

The stairs were dark, until little by little, light from Sanji’s windows began to wash over them, falling in warped rectangles that stood out in the darkening air. Summer was officially behind them, and the nights were chilly, enough that, say, a kid who ran away from home and wandered the streets at night would have some trouble now.  


****

Sanji’s curtains were closed, but inside, there was the hint of a moving shadow and the sound of cooking utensils clacking together occasionally. It appeared Sanji was already getting busy in the kitchen, _definitely_ so when, by the time they reached the deck, the smell of delectable tomato sauce wafted out to them.  


****

Zoro had to smirk. A few nights ago, Tana had complained about craving some good pasta, and it seemed the cook hadn’t forgotten.  


****

There was a lot Sanji didn’t forget. He remembered, not only where they lived, but where Franky and Robin lived, and where Tana’s school was. He remembered the time she got out of school too, because he’d asked if the cook could pick her up one day, a week ago, when he’d had to fill out some paperwork for Koshiro for his kendo license re-testing.  


****

But it wasn’t only arbitrary things like that. It was specific things. Like his daughter’s favorite foods, what music she liked to listen to in the car. He remembered everything she told him about kendo and tried to put it to good use, using proper terminology when he could.  


****

He’d even come back to the dojo to spar with her a few more times, having apparently started going back to the gym himself.  


****

Zoro didn’t know how much Sanji remembered about _him,_ but seeing how much care and attention he gave to Tana was….  


****

Well, he didn’t know _how_ it made him feel, just that it made him feel stupidly good, and that was something he hadn’t felt in a fucking long time.  


****

Of course it had to be the idiot cook doing all these things…  


****

Apparently, however, Sanji remembered more about him than he assumed because, as soon as Tana opened the door to his apartment and stepped in, Zoro noticed a pack of his favorite beer on the cook’s counter, something he knew, for a fact, he’d never mentioned outright to the man. He’d not wanted to discuss _anything_ alcohol with the cook, because the guy had such prissy taste and---  


****

Unfortunately, it must have been important to him because he was holding a bottle of the cook’s favorite wine in _his_ hand, wasn’t he…  


****

Fuck.  


****

“You’re making pasta!” Tana exclaimed, dropping her backpack at the door and hurrying in to lean over the counter and snoop on what Sanji was doing.  


****

“I am,” Sanji replied over his shoulder, mixing ingredients in a bowl, saying nothing in the way of protest when it came to his two guests barging in without so much as knocking. “And it’s easy. Even an idiot could make it. So get the hell over here, mosshead. I’m teaching you how. So you don’t have to keep hounding me to make you food.”  


****

“Oh, come the fuck on, cook! I know how to make stuff!” Zoro complained, shrugging off his jacket and dumping it on Sanji’s couch unceremoniously. “Just ‘cause I’m not all fancy about it…”  


****

He came over to the counter too and slammed down the bottle of wine before adding, “How ‘bout you gimme a beer first, then maybe I’ll help out.”  


****

“Right, ‘cause I totally want you stumbling around drunk in my kitchen,” the blond muttered in reply, moving to the fridge and pulling out vegetables for the salad.  


****

“Oi! You’re the one who can’t hold your liquor for shit!” Zoro shot back. “Didn’t think one diluted glass of wine would do you in after five minutes last week.”  


****

“It was not _five minutes!”_ Sanji bitched. “Would you just get over here?”  


****

“Fine. Six minutes,” Zoro replied smugly, shooting a smirk at his daughter when he moved past her.  


****

“Homework,” he insisted, and though she rolled her eyes, Tana was grinning too as she obediently headed over to grab her backpack and settle on the couch with the TV on.  


****

“We’re dropping it,” Sanji muttered, shouldering the other man roughly towards the sink and pointing at a pot beside it. “Fill the pot there to the top with water. Not _overflowing._ Leave an inch or two. You can handle that, right?”  


****

“What kind of water? Bottled in the Swiss Alps with only the best minerals---?”  


****

“Shut the _fuck_ up!” Sanji screeched. “Use the damn tap, I swear to fuck…”  


****

“What, it’s a valid question,” Zoro teased, though he’d begun doing what Sanji asked. “Everything else you shove in your face is like that.”  


****

“Well, what do you take me for? A caveman? Don’t answer that. I have _taste,”_ the cook grumbled when it looked as if Zoro was already planning a cheeky reply in his head. “Are you done? Bring that over here.”  


****

The ex-swordsman lifted the heavy water-filled pot and carried it easily to the stove, setting it down on one of the burners.  


****

“Now watch. This is for the pasta. Turn the heat to here, and---Zoro! Pay attention!” Sanji snapped fingers in Zoro’s face as his friend’s gaze shifted to the TV. “I want you to learn how to do this! The water needs to boil first. Then we add the pasta which I have over here. I’m using store-bought pasta for _once_ because I knew it would be easier for you. Unless you---Zoro, for _fuck’s_ sake, you shithead! Listen to me!”  


****

“I _am_ listening! I don’t have to look at you to listen!” Zoro snapped, but he did, to his credit, turn to look at the cook with an evil smirk.  


****

“I’m trying to _show_ you something, you oaf!”  


****

And the blond grabbed Zoro by his shirt sleeve and forcibly yanked him over to the stove.  


****

Honestly, why did he even bother? Zoro was a terrible student, at least on the surface, and he seemed quite content to let Sanji do everything for him. But his goal was to _teach_ Zoro to help him _learn something_ so he could _care for his daughter._  


****

Unless Zoro was pretending though. Because, honestly, he was a _fast_ learner. In fact, sometimes he got instructions down after one try, which led Sanji to believe he really _was_ paying attention...just being an idiot about it. And the cook really didn’t understand _why._  


****

But he found he didn’t much care. It was frustrating as hell, but it was actually a little bit entertaining, he could admit to himself. He liked arguing with the guy. He liked calling him names and having him shoot it right back. Because it didn’t feel _serious_ to him. He didn’t _really_ believe the guy was an unfeeling drunkard with the IQ of a rock….  


****

He only believed it when Zoro _acted_ that way. Which was all the time. And fuck, he _wanted_ him to act that way, because it only made their actually intelligent conversations all the more meaningful. He was, in reality, able to open up to Zoro like he could with no other, especially after the events of two weeks prior.  


****

Like, for instance, when Zoro turned to him during a lull in their work, the ex-swordsman stirring absently at the pasta they’d put in to boil.  


****

“Nothing from the police?” he murmured quietly, glancing over at the cook and lowering his voice so Tana didn’t overhear so easily.  


****

Sanji huffed a frustrated sigh and set down his knife, half-cut tomatoes piled to one side of the cutting board.  


****

“No,” he muttered in response. “I thought….I mean, they _had_ to have gotten the shit, right? Unless the kid at the front desk fucked it up somehow. But I thought I’d get a call or _something.”_  


****

Zoro made a noise of agreement, eyes watching the cook’s profile, the way his brow furrowed in irritation, his hair falling in his face when he hunched over the countertop and scratched a pattern on the cutting board with a nail.  


****

“You could always go back. Ask about it.”  


****

The blond let out a breath, looking up finally, meeting Zoro’s eye.  


****

“And say what? Why haven’t you arrested Big Mom yet? Get on that? And keep my brothers in jail, please?” He shook his head. “I’m just....wondering if I even have a right to _know_ on that sort of thing, y’know?”  


****

“Sure you do,” Zoro said, shrugging.  


****

He stepped over to elbow the cook out of the way, taking away Sanji’s knife and swatting at his hand when the blond briefly tried to stop him.  


****

He set to work cutting the tomatoes himself, with skill that was….well, maybe it was rather _unsurprising_ considering everything.  


****

So Sanji sat back, leaning against the counter and watching him go for a minute before lifting eyes to Zoro’s face.  


****

“Will you go with me?” he asked, not liking how weak his voice sounded. “I dunno, maybe the chief will take it more seriously if we both go---”  


****

Zoro sliced the knife down a little too hard, rattling the cutting board.  


****

He breathed out forcefully and looked up at the blond.  


****

“You took the shit to _Smoker?”_ he hissed, glancing over at his daughter, though she was still turned away, the back of her head silhouetted against the TV screen.  


****

“Yeah….” Sanji replied slowly, quirking a brow at Zoro. “Why? You....know him?”  


****

He instantly felt stupid for that question, however, when Zoro just gave a little growl and looked away with a mumbled, “I had to deal with him…..after Kuina….”  


****

“Gotcha…” Sanji murmured instantly, stopping Zoro from going further and causing himself more pain, his chest clenching uncomfortably. “But....I dunno, he’s a cop, sure, but I actually got the impression he’s kind of an okay guy---”  


****

“It’s not him…” Zoro muttered hastily, shaking his head and looking, suddenly, like he was slipping back into a place in his head Sanji hadn’t seen since that first day at the dojo. Ever since, when Sanji had gone, they’d trained on the other end of the building, away from that mysterious room, and Zoro had seemed far more at ease.  


****

But then, to Sanji’s surprise, the mosshead continued, his voice nearly a whisper now.  


****

_“...It’s his partner…”_  


****

This perplexed the cook entirely, who quickly asked, “Who? The woman? What’s her name---Tashigi? Why would she be a---?”  


****

“Tana? Tell the cook about that thing you learned at school last week,” Zoro said suddenly, turning away from the cook and going back to his cutting.  


****

Sanji gaped at him for a second, offended that the shithead would deny him an answer like that, a look on his face similar to Tana, who turned around on the couch to look over with confusion.  


****

“What?” she asked. “What thing?”  


****

Zoro didn’t answer though, just glared steadfastly down at his work, so Sanji rolled his eyes.  


****

“Nothing. He’s just being an idiot, as usual,” Sanji informed, shaking his head and going back to manning the pasta.  


****

Honestly, just when he thought the other man was starting to improve, the asshole shut him out again. And unlike two weeks ago, it was actually starting to hurt now...  


****

* * *

****

Despite the tension of earlier, by the time the dinner was ready and they’d all sat at the small table in Sanji’s kitchen, the weirdness had died down and things were right back to how they had been, with Zoro and his daughter stuffing their faces, and Sanji staring at them, thoroughly appalled by their behavior.  


****

“Zoro, she is picking up your shit manners! This is a fucking travesty!” Sanji scolded, pointing his fork accusingly at the heathen currently slurping up spaghetti loudly.  


****

“What! Slurping your food is good manners in Japan!” he justified, not looking to stop any time soon.  


****

“We’re not in Japan! And you never even _lived_ there! You can’t pull that shit with me!”  


****

“I can have good manners when it matters,” Tana assured with a shrug, twirling a huge chunk of pasta on her fork. “He _never_ does.”  


****

“Well, _yeah,_ that’s obvious, but----hey! Hang on, when it _matters?!”_ the cook screeched. “So what the hell is this situation!”  


****

“I dunno. It’s just _your_ place,” she replied, though she smirked, knowing it would get under his skin, and it certainly did.  


****

“Oi! Listen here, young lady---!” Sanji yelped automatically, to which Zoro and Tana shared a look and instantly broke into snickers at the cook’s stupid scolding.  


****

The conversation petered into Sanji’s muttered bitching about how he felt ganged up on and disrespected in his own apartment and other idiotic things. But by the end, everything had settled back into a normalcy that few would actually assume possible when it came to the three of them.  


****

They hadn’t been eating together _every_ night, but it seemed that, for each of them, there was something that kept them wanting to do it again, to somehow make it a regular thing, even if both Zoro and Sanji outwardly denied it was.  


****

With the TV on and Tana quietly Facetiming with Oliver afterwards, the sound of running water and dishes clacking together as Sanji forced Zoro to wash dishes with him---the atmosphere was almost….well, maybe homey was too strong of a word. It wasn’t like they _lived_ together or anything. But it was certainly comfortable.  


****

The two men were quiet for once, Sanji passing clean dishes over to Zoro for drying, nothing but Tana’s voice and the narration of a news reporter in the background.  


****

_“---Officials say a file was received with condemning evidence against the leader of the organized crime syndicate known only as the ‘Fishmen.' Said syndicate had played a major role in the Germa 66 drug scandal of last year, as newly-uncovered transactions from the Vinsmokes’ bank account detail. Hody Jones has been taken into police custody and will----”  
_

****

Both Zoro and Sanji looked up at the same time, both of them nearly dropping the dishes they each held. Eyes wide, their heads whipped around to stare at each other, before looking back to the TV screen.  


****

Tana wasn’t paying attention, still chatting with her friend about one of the music teacher’s crazy stories of his ‘Soul King’ days at school, eyes fixed on her phone. But on the TV was footage of the burly leader of the Fishmen, bushy white hair standing out against dark skin and a crazed look in his eye as he practically snapped teeth at the officers trying to cart him into the back of a police car.  


****

Not a second later, Zoro’s phone went off in his back pocket, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, lifting the device to see an unread text from Robin.  


****

And then Sanji’s rang on the counter beside the sink, an incoming call from an unfamiliar number....  


****

Neither of them said a word, their eyes meeting again almost automatically, neither understanding what was going on, but both realizing that _something_ was happening.  


****

Zoro gave a subtle nod, and Sanji’s eyes were on the other man’s the whole time he reached for his phone and picked it up, keeping his voice level when he answered.  


****

“Hello?” he said evenly. Then, after a pause, “Yes, this is Sanji.”  


****

Zoro watched him, unable to hear the voice on the other end, but knowing that it had some effect on the cook, whose eyes had darkened and focused intently somewhere on his own broad chest.  


****

Sanji nodded several times, answered, “Yeah,” a few, then finally said, “Tomorrow, first thing, sure…” and hung up after bidding farewell a second later.  


****

He lowered the phone, looked up at Zoro again, who merely tilted his head in silent question.  


****

It took Sanji a good minute before he let out a breath, averting eyes.  


****

“Are you---I mean, are you really not okay with seeing Smoker and Tashigi again…?” Sanji asked, a slight pleading that he couldn’t quite shake from his voice.  


****

Zoro saw the look of discomfort there, as much as the cook tried to hide it, the worry, and maybe anger building there too.  


****

Was he really going to leave Sanji to deal with this by himself over his own selfish reasons?  


****

“It’s fine,” he answered without thinking, despite his earlier sentiments. “I’m with you.”  


****

* * *

****

By the time they returned home, Zoro’s mood had changed significantly, and Tana had taken notice. She’d noticed it with Sanji too, just before they’d left his apartment.  


****

The cook had tried to play it off, but the looks he and her dad had shared were enough to tell her something was up, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the way her dad was almost furiously texting to someone the whole taxi ride home, and the phone call she’d heard Sanji receive.  


****

Eventually, when they walked into their apartment and the serious expression on Zoro’s face _still_ hadn’t lifted, she deemed it time to say something.  


****

But he beat her to it, rubbing at the back of his head as he threw keys onto the kitchen counter and gave a heavy sigh.  


****

“How much did you hear? At the cook’s,” he asked, and she resisted the urge to smile, despite everything.  


****

This was a sign, after all, that things really were changing. Her dad wasn’t underestimating her. He was trusting her with more and more, actually _talking_ to her and telling her things. Even if she didn’t understand all of it, particularly what had happened at his job with Crocodile, the sentiment was enough, and it gave her hope. Hope that things could go back to the way they were.  


****

She knew there was a lot left unsaid, particularly about her mom. That was one subject they had yet to breach, but maybe in time…  


****

“Um….not much,” she replied truthfully, shrugging her backpack off and dropping it on the floor by the pile of shoes they’d amassed near the door. “I heard Sanji take a phone call….and then you’re over here texting like a maniac…”  


****

“It’s Robin,” he answered, waving his phone. “You might have to go to Oliver’s after school tomorrow.”  


****

“Okay…” Tana replied slowly. “There a reason why?”  


****

It was a question she usually wouldn’t ask until recently, but now that her dad was more consistently around, it seemed like a valid one.  


****

To her surprise though, he smirked slightly, causing his features to soften for the first time in the past hour or so.  


****

“I already decided to tell you what’s up. You don’t gotta sound so suspicious.”  


****

Tana actually looked embarrassed for a second, not realizing the somewhat annoyed expression that came over her face. She wasn’t exactly _used_ to receiving explanations.  


****

Of course, she also wasn’t ready for said explanation.  


****

“The cook has to go to the police tomorrow and he wants me to go with him.”  


****

Her dad held up a hand as soon as it looked like she was going to interject with more questions.  


****

“No one’s in trouble. Well….one guy is---the wrong guy, as far as we know, and we wanna find out why,” he explained, and it really wasn’t much of an explanation, judging by the confusion that twisted Tana’s features. But he didn’t want to bring up Hody, because he was sure she’d remember.  


****

After all, _he_ did. He remembered Kuina ushering their daughter away quickly that night in the parking lot, but not before he heard Tana’s fearful, confused whimper of, “Daddy…?” when Hody grabbed him by the shirt collar with an angry sneer.  


****

“Dad, that makes _no_ sense,” Tana complained, and he rolled his eyes, then crossed over to turn her by the shoulder, urging her to head towards her room.  


****

“Yeah, well. I don’t really get it either. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll find shit out. For now, bed,” he said, giving her a nudge.  


****

“But---!” she protested, stumbling forward a few steps. “Dad! You’re going to the _police!_ Are you sure everything’s---?”  


****

“Trust me,” he insisted automatically, though his voice was certain. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”  


****

She paused for a moment, looked back at him, almost judging if she _could_ trust him. But eventually, she sighed unhappily and nodded.  


****

“Okay, okay…” she mumbled, lips turning up a tiny bit when he gave her another teasing shove.  


****

Then, on a split second decision, she whipped around with a fist curled, a punch aimed directly at her dad’s gut.  


****

His hand flew up, however, catching her fist easily and twisting it away from him gently, the man quirking a brow down at his daughter in challenge.  


****

“Good _night,”_ he said pointedly, smirking down at her pouting expression.  


****

She backed away slowly when he released her hand, narrowing eyes, then pointing two fingers from her eyes to his before turning the corner and heading towards her room to get ready for bed.  


****

His smirk didn’t leave his face. In fact, he had to hide a stupid smile behind a hand, the same one he’d caught her flying fist with.  


****

It was a game they used to play when she was younger---Sneak Attack---to see if they could catch the other off-guard, test their reflexes and possibly land a hit. And it had been a long time since…  


****

It felt good, to know his daughter was beginning to trust him again, but it was bittersweet.  


****

Because he knew.  


****

He knew he would have to break that trust when he told her the truth. The truth that everything bad that had happened in their lives….had happened because of him.  


****

Fuck, he didn’t know how Sanji did it. How the stupid cook was capable of instilling _such_ confidence and conviction in him that he tended to lose all on his own.  


****

His smile began to fade, remembering just what he’d gotten himself into.  


****

He’d agreed to go with Sanji, and he didn’t regret that....but part of him wondered if the blond could truly help him with _everything._  


****

* * *

****

In the morning, Sanji was livid. Why the fuck was he having to do this? What had gone so horribly wrong that the evidence he’d provided to Smoker---undeniable _proof_ of his brothers’ transactions with Big Mom, with account numbers and everything---hadn’t been enough? Had incriminated some _completely_ different asshole?  


****

He’d begun to get the very bad feeling that he’d been played. By who, he didn’t know, but potentially by _everyone._ His brothers. Pudding, for sure. Maybe even Big Mom herself.  


****

He didn’t understand it, and this filled him with rage.  


****

He’d thought about everything during the night, laid awake and fucking stressed over it, and when he picked up Zoro the next morning and the mosshead got into his car, he immediately had to let the man know.  


****

“I’m fucking _pissed,_ Zoro,” he growled, hands twisting on the steering wheel and teeth crunching down on a cigarette.  


****

“Why are you pissed,” Zoro muttered, humoring the cook’s attitude, despite looking absolutely exhausted himself.  


****

He’d worn another stupid button-down shirt, albeit underneath his worn leather jacket, and that should’ve damn been enough for the cook’s ridiculous fashion sense. So why was he so pissed?  


****

“Why do you think!” the cook screeched, slamming his foot down on the brake and practically wrenching out the gear shift when he put the car in reverse. “After all the shit we had to deal with, some random guy gets what should be _Big Mom’s_ punishment?! What the hell! Somebody fucked up _big time,_ and I wanna know who so I can---”  


****

“He’s not some random guy,” Zoro answered tiredly, glaring over at Sanji when he peeled out of the parking lot far too fast. “He’s the leader of the Fishmen. Weren’t you listening when they said that on the news? Those guys’re also shilling out steroids and shit. Buncha fucking sharks… They might’ve been working for Big Mom or whatever.”  


****

He trailed off for a second before adding, in a near whisper, _“I also might’ve punched Hody’s face in once…”_  


****

_“What?!”  
_

****

Sanji’s screech was instantaneous, his head whipping around to gape at the other man, looking back and forth between him and the road for as long as it took to convey his absolute shock.  


****

“Yeah, that’s....what Tana thinks I went to Impel Down for…” he mumbled. The only reason he hadn’t fallen on his bad habit of dropping the unwanted topic immediately was because he’d prepared himself, reluctantly, for it to come up today, whether with Sanji, or the police.  


****

“Wait, wait, wait,” the blond stammered, still stealing glances at Zoro when he could. “Backtrack here. You punched Hody. When? _Why?_ You sure it’s the same guy?”  


****

“Yes, I’m fucking sure, cook,” Zoro replied irritably, leaning up against the window and glaring fixedly out. “I wouldn’t forget an asshole like that.” He sighed. “It was a few years ago. At a competition. He was a karate judge, and he started saying shit to me in the parking lot about Kuina. I snapped.”  


****

Instantly, as he always did when Zoro brought up Kuina, the cook felt bad for pressing him. But it still didn’t change his shock over this news.  


****

Sanji brought a hand to his forehead like this was hurting his brain, and it kind of was. How many shitty connections were going to emerge in their lives…?  


****

“Alright. Whatever,” he eventually said, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it of confusion. “I---” But then, because the thought struck him, he asked, “Does Smoker know that happened?”  


****

“Yup….of course it came up again,” Zoro muttered in reply, sounding more and more surly by the minute.  


****

Time to drop the subject, Sanji assumed, the car falling into silence as he did just that.  


****

Soon enough, however, and not for the first time, he found his gaze drifting back to the man beside him when he stopped the car at a light. He didn’t even know what he was looking at, or why. The ugly bruise he’d given the man had faded, so he was back to looking like a normal cactus instead of a battered one.  


****

And he didn’t know if it was because Zoro sensed his eyes on him or what, but a few seconds later, the mosshead glanced over, brows raising a bit when he found Sanji already looking at him.  


****

“What?” he mumbled, looking down at himself in case there was something on his shirt.  


****

To Zoro’s complete confusion, the weirdo cook smirked, ever the fucking enigma.  


****

“Knock any of his teeth out when you punched him?” Sanji asked, just before the light changed and they started moving again.  


****

Zoro couldn’t help but return the smirk, relaxing a bit.  


****

“No. But bloodied up his nose real good.”  


****

Sanji snorted, then reached out a hand to ruffle through Zoro’s hair, the car swerving slightly when Zoro screeched in protest and shoved him away.  


****

“Proud of you, mosshead~” he teased, laughing as his friend worked to straighten up his hair (as if there was any style to straighten). “Standing up for justice on the playgrou---OW! Okay, okay! _Jeez,_ you’re gonna make me crash!”  


****

Zoro pulled his hand away from Sanji’s face, leaving an angry red mark where he’d pinched the guy’s cheek, a smug look on his face as Sanji rubbed at it sorely.  


****

“You wanna talk justice, let’s get through today,” he muttered, hoping that they could do just that.  


****

* * *

****

Of course, by the time they were stuck in the waiting area of the police station, much of the humor had died down, both of them stuck wondering why the hell they kept being forced to revisit the unpleasant places that had so shaped their lives.  


****

Zoro, in particular, was sitting on the chair beside the cook, leaning over his knees and rubbing over his face, gaze darting quickly around the harshly-lit hall as if looking for ghosts.  


****

No one was paying them any mind, busy people rushing by, countless footsteps clicking on the linoleum floors, and yet it was as if the whole _world_ were staring at them with the way Zoro sat there, submerged in discomfort.  


****

Sanji had refrained from saying anything, not wanting to stir up any painful memories for the guy, or distract him when he was feeling so anxious himself, in need of a cigarette already.  


****

But Zoro’s hands were shaking, ever so slightly, he noticed, his thumb and forefinger rubbing unconsciously over the bare ring finger on his left hand. It was a nervous gesture Sanji himself did sometimes, though less so now, and something told him he knew where his friend’s thoughts were.  


****

However, it surprised him when Zoro huffed out a breath and said, “Cook. I don’t---m’gonna try not to, but I might….might bolt if---if that woman shows up…”  


****

Sanji sighed, figuring Zoro meant Smoker’s partner, Tashigi, again, and he still didn’t understand how one woman could be terrifying Zoro so damn much.  


****

“Why…?” he asked, trying not to let his frustration show, because he _didn’t_ want Zoro to do that. He wanted him here---he did---so they could deal with this _together._  


****

For a second, he wondered if Zoro would tell him at all, judging by his eagerness to avoid all explanation the evening before.  


****

Zoro sighed again, wringing hands together before rubbing them over his knees.  


****

This was a different display of nerves than he’d seen from the man. This was something that was working to break the man entirely, certainly affecting him physically, and it suddenly hit the cook, why he thought Zoro might be acting this way.  


****

“Hold on…” he muttered, lowering his voice and ducking his head to look at the man. “Zoro….did you and her---have a _thing---?”_  


****

He’d barely gotten his last word out before a frosted door on Zoro’s right opened, and out stepped the woman in question.  


****

Tashigi wore a white pantsuit, blazer left unbuttoned over a purple floral button-down. Her long blue-black hair was tied up in a loose bun, and glasses she adjusted over her nose as she turned to the two men seated by the wall beside her.  


****

Instantly, Zoro bristled, tensed entirely, and Sanji noticed how he kept his eyes firmly away from her, staring across the hallway at the chairs lining the opposite side.  


****

She was cute, as Sanji remembered well, despite how briefly he’d encountered her before. But now, with his unanswered question still swirling in his mind, he wondered what the hell kind of history she could have…  


****

“Mr. Vinsmoke,” she said, giving him a nod and a smile. “Thank you for coming in.”  


****

Beside him, Zoro practically _flinched_ at her voice, and he turned his head away entirely, eyes squeezed shut as if in pain.  


****

The cook’s eyes flicked to him in concern, lingering on Zoro for a moment before he finally looked back up at Tashigi and gave a somewhat forced smile in return.  


****

“It’s no problem,” he said shortly.  


****

“Captain Smoker will see you now,” she replied, gesturing behind her to the open doorway. “If you’ll follow me.”  


****

Strangely, she seemed oblivious to Zoro’s actions, something that didn’t support the theory that they knew each other more _intimately._  


****

He stood slowly, and she even started to walk through the doors, as if Zoro weren’t even there, forcing him to ask, “Uh---I brought---my friend here is involved. Is it okay if we both….?”  


****

She slowed, looked back over her shoulder and seemed to notice Zoro for the first time, brow furrowing briefly.  


****

“His name?” she asked, and Sanji fumbled for a second, wondering if Zoro would kill him for answering, especially when the mosshead looked ready to sink into the floor.  


****

“Um...Zoro….Roronoa,” Sanji answered slowly, giving his friend ample time to kick him or signal for him to stop, but he didn’t.  


****

Something in Tashigi’s eyes flashed with recognition, and her gaze flicked to Zoro again. But then she nodded.  


****

“Very well,” she replied, and jerked her head for them both to come with her.  


****

Zoro got to his feet, steely gaze fixed straight ahead, but the way his jaw clenched betrayed his warring feelings underneath.  


****

Before he turned to follow her, Sanji stopped him, a hand reaching out to cover Zoro’s wrist with more care than intended.  


****

“Zoro,” he murmured, searching the man’s face. “Is it okay...?”  


****

He wasn’t expecting it, but Zoro’s eyes met his, looking at Sanji for a long moment that had the cook breathing lightly despite himself.  


****

_“Yeah…”_ he said eventually, then reached up a hand to remove the blond’s grip on him as gently as the cook had placed it there.  


****

He strode in ahead of Sanji, conviction on his face, and the feel of Sanji’s touch mysteriously lingering on his arm.  


****

* * *

****

She didn’t move like Kuina. This was what he focused on, only allowing himself to catch a glimpse of her feet now and again as he followed her through to Smoker’s office, Sanji right beside him, even pushing ahead a little.  


****

She didn’t move like Kuina---she didn’t smell like Kuina. Her hair was longer than Kuina’s, and she _wasn’t_ Kuina.  


****

He could tell the difference in their speaking, Tashigi’s voice a little more shrill, not nearly as soothing as Kuina’s had been.  


****

She wasn’t Kuina.  


****

She could never be Kuina. No one ever could be.  


****

Not even…  


****

He shook his head, letting Sanji pass him, his gaze lifting, only for a moment, to the blond’s face when he entered the room Tashigi had directed them to. He slipped in after his friend, the scent of cigar smoke immediately overcoming them, and hung back, _willing_ the woman to leave, to not stick around for this entire meeting, because it just might drive him insane. He had enough shit running through his mind as it was.  


****

“Captain Smoker,” Tashigi was saying. “Mr. Vinsmoke, and Mr.-----”  


****

“Roronoa. It’s been a while,” came a deep voice from across the room, finishing for her, and Zoro tentatively stole a glance up at the man seated at the desk, the pair of cigars perched between his lips, and the shock of white hair slicked back atop his head.  


****

Zoro nodded to him in acknowledgment, but found himself unable to speak so long as Tashigi was still there.  


****

Thankfully, to his relief, she took her leave, though he felt her eyes land on him briefly as she left.  


****

It was only when the door shut behind him that he felt the tension ease from his shoulders somewhat, his thundering heartbeat calming a little.  


****

Sanji looked over at him, turned up lips subtly, before he directed his attention to Smoker.  


****

“Alright, sir. With all due respect, what the hell is going on?” the cook asked, barely restraining the anger in his voice. “You did get the files I brought, right?”  


****

Smoker leaned back in his chair, gloved hands lifting a manila envelope on his desk, the very one Sanji had left with Coby.  


****

“Right here,” Smoker answered. “I’d apologize for the delay, but you of all people should remember how long investigations take.”  


****

The cook scoffed, considering that was only a small fraction of what he’d been desperately wanting to know.  


****

“That’s not----I don’t understand! Those transactions were with _Big Mom’s_ account. Why the hell is this Hody Jones bastard getting locked up instead!”  


****

Smoker stared at him for a long moment, betraying no emotion, but the judgment was clear in his eyes.  


****

Eventually, he let out a sigh through clenched teeth and shifted, opening the file and scanning the paperwork for the thousandth time.  


****

He jammed a finger down on top of it and leveled Sanji with a serious look.  


****

“The account in question---the one receiving payments from the Vinsmoke account---wasn’t connected to the Charlotte family. It was a police-monitored account set up prior to your brothers’ arrest, by a hired informant and now-former member of the Fishmen, by the name of Aladine,” Smoker explained, removing both cigars to give them a tap over the ashtray. “We have since linked him to the Charlotte family, but none of _this_ particular evidence is enough to indict her.”  


****

Sanji blinked, let out a breath and staggered his weight, lifting a hand to run over his mouth as he tried to make sense of everything.  


****

He certainly felt like the rug was pulled out from under him, despite the one beneath his feet remaining firmly in place.  


****

“So….you’re telling me that was....the _Fishmen’s_ account? Or---whatever, a _fake_ one? Nothing to do with Big Mom?”  


****

Smoker nodded, resting elbows on his desk and lacing fingers before his face.  


****

“In layman’s terms, yes,” he confirmed. “It was originally put in place to provide evidence against your brothers. However, upon reviewing the history, it seems money was transferred _from_ the Fishmen to Germa as well. This was never part of the agreement. So we now have reason to take Mr. Jones in for questioning.”  


****

Sanji felt a wave of selfish anger flood him. This wasn’t fair. He _knew_ for a _fact_ they’d been working with Big Mom. And Smoker had to have known it too. Big Mom was the one who should be getting locked up.  


****

“I guess your brothers weren’t too smart,” Zoro muttered, for the first time since entering the room. “They really thought it was Big Mom…”  


****

The cook glanced over at Zoro, who’d reacted a lot more calmly, but still looked confused, his brow furrowed in the way it always did when he was working through something internally. Conversely, it was also the same look he’d gotten the previous night when Sanji had tried to show him how to arrange a dinner plate properly.  


****

“What about Crocodile?” the ex-swordsman asked, lifting eyes to Smoker. “He and Big Mom knew about this. They knew his brothers were trying to get the account info for themselves, so they could get out of Impel Down early. They knew that was happening, but it wasn’t Big Mom’s account, so why were they so….”  


****

But then, his eyes widened slightly before he rolled them.  


****

“Fucking----they were after Hody,” Zoro growled. “The whole fucking time---Big Mom fucking knew to set you up. ‘Cause you’d go and turn the shit in to the police.”  


****

Maybe normally Sanji would’ve made some sarcastic compliment about Zoro figuring all that out on his own with his tiny brain….if the revelation hadn’t been so infuriating.  


****

He hated the thought that Big Mom knew _anything_ about him, that he’d been involved with her family long enough that she’d be able to predict his actions in _any_ way. He felt stupid, and violated, and he felt stupid for _feeling_ violated. He didn’t want to keep _helping_ them, even indirectly.  


****

And Pudding….she’d deceived him yet again.  


****

“Ah yes, Roronoa, how is that stint going?” Smoker asked around his cigars, voice laden with sarcasm. It was clear he wasn’t happy with where Zoro had ended up. “Still Crocodile’s---?”  


****

“I quit,” he interrupted. “I got the fuck out of there as soon as this shit started.”  


****

Smoker rose a brow, the only hint of his surprise.  


****

“Admirable of you,” the captain muttered, having stood corrected.  


****

He picked at the files, lifting one page and letting it fall back down again absently, watching his guests.  


****

How these two standing before him had become involved with one another was beyond him. They were cases he’d dealt with around the same time. In fact, if he recalled, Roronoa’s situation had interrupted his first proper meeting with the blond. Both men had fallen upon desperate times, and somehow ended up dragged together by some rather strange circumstances.  


****

He couldn’t say that was too out of the ordinary though. If his years in the force had told him anything, it was that six degrees of separation were usually _more_ than was necessary....  


****

“My advice to you, Mr. Vinsmoke, and I suppose to you as well, Roronoa, is for you both to watch your backs,” Smoker said. “It now stands to reason that the Fishmen, especially their second-in-command, Arlong, will not be happy with you in particular, Mr. Vinsmoke.”  


****

“Like I _fucking_ care about that,” Sanji hissed bitterly, running a hand through his hair.  


****

The room fell into silence, the only sound that of the ceiling fan spinning quietly, doing nothing to cut through the tension.  


****

The cook finally sighed, clenching fists at his side and pivoting himself towards the door, clearly done with the conversation.  


****

“Is that all you have to warn me about?” he asked, and when Smoker said nothing more, merely tapped his cigars again, Sanji nodded.  


****

“Then I’ll take my chances,” the cook said, before turning on his heel and heading for the door without further word.  


****

“I’ll be in the car,” he muttered to Zoro, and pushed past him to exit the room.  


****

Zoro watched him go, a weird urge coming over him to run after the man, to stop him and----what? He wasn’t sure, just knew that he had to _suppress_ that odd urge in order to keep himself rooted to the spot.  


****

It left him alone with Smoker, the captain still sitting quietly at his desk, observing the scene with a far-away look in his eye.  


****

“Still too emotional, isn’t he,” Smoker said, almost to himself, removing cigars from his mouth and gesturing them towards the closed door through which Sanji had left.  


****

Zoro slowly turned his head to look at the man, silent question in his eyes.  


****

“And then there’s you,” the captain muttered. “Who refuses to show any.”  


****

How could he know, after all, that inside, Zoro’s emotions surged just as powerfully behind a stony facade that really wasn’t as strong as everyone thought.  


****

Smoker reached out to flip shut the file Sanji had brought to him, sliding it aside on his desk as he watched Zoro, the man he’d last seen in as desperate a situation as Sanji’s, being carted away _willingly_ to a prison he didn’t deserve to go to.  


****

Smoker knew this. He’d tried to help him, tried to stop his sentence, but Zoro had been broken, seemed to _want_ punishment for a crime he hadn’t meant to commit. And in the end, the most he’d been able to do was stabilize his sentence to the minimum, a year.  


****

It had frustrated even him, made him doubt the very justice he’d always believed in, and left him all the more determined to see the Vinsmoke case through, to make sure _someone_ ended up where they deserved….  


****

“How’s your daughter?” the captain asked, remembering clearly the regret he’d had, that yet another child would lose a father, much as the Vinsmokes notoriously had. He had no kids of his own, but he knew the feeling, though he rarely spoke of it---how it felt to have a father leave and never return.  


****

“She’s okay,” Zoro answered quietly. “She’s strong.”  


****

Stronger than him, he knew…  


****

“M’gonna go,” Zoro added, still in the room, but his mind already out the door with the cook. Then he echoed Sanji’s words. “I’ll take my chances with those bastards too.”  


****

And without waiting for Smoker’s reply, he gave a short nod as he had upon entering, and left, closing the door behind him.  


****

Smoker stared at that door for a minute afterward, at that entrance through which so many had come and gone.  


****

And yet, it was the ones that returned that kept him the most interested.  


****

* * *

****

Sanji’s forehead was pressed against the steering wheel, listening to the distant sounds of traffic outside the parking garage, the occasional echoing screech of tires as cars descended the ramp that spiraled outside the parking tower.  


There were a lot of cars parked in the sprawling space, and he’d wanted to kick dents in every single one of them.  


He’d gone and done what he hadn’t wanted Zoro to do. Run. Let himself get overpowered by emotion.  


He’d texted his sister during his bout of anger, because he needed answers, dammit. Had she known this would happen? Had she left him to get tricked? To have false hope over this, only to have it crushed yet again?  


He didn’t know, but he was sick and _tired_ of people taking advantage of him. Even if his brothers really hadn’t known the truth about the account’s real owner, he’d still been forced to deal with them again, to relive every bad thing in his life that he’d thought he’d put behind him.  


He just wanted some _honesty_ for once.  


The sound of the passenger side door opening. The slight dip of the car when Zoro got in.  


Sanji’s eyes were closed, still hunched over the steering wheel, but it was obvious it was Zoro. He smelled the leather of his jacket, the unique steely scent that was just... _Zoro._ Maybe it was the grass growing on his head. Sanji didn’t know. But it was definitely a Zoro smell.  


He said nothing, didn’t move, and Zoro said nothing either.  


Sanji was glad for this. He was done ranting. He was so done. He didn’t _want_ to be angry anymore. He just wanted to distance himself as far as he could, so he didn’t have to dwell on this shit any longer.  


Zoro said nothing, but he wondered if the swordsman was thinking something similar.  


He heard Zoro breathe in slowly, almost meditatively, before letting it out in a measured exhale.  


A second later he spoke.  


“Tashigi and I were never a thing,” he murmured.  


Sanji’s eyes opened. He didn’t sit up entirely, just kept staring at the dashboard, the dormant speedometer that looked as listless as he felt. But he was listening.  


“I didn’t….wanna see her because....” Zoro began, and he huffed out a breath, clearly trying to gather his wits. “She looks _just_ like Kuina---fuck. The glasses are different, and---and her hair, but….I just couldn’t…”  


Sanji straightened, leaning back in the seat and turning his head to look at the man, his eyes drifting over Zoro’s features, features that mirrored so much of what he felt himself.  


“I was in there…” Zoro continued, staring fixedly at the glove compartment in front of him. “And I thought---just for a second…..why the _fuck_ can’t I get over her? Why can’t I let go and---and fucking move on?” He gritted teeth and closed his eyes. “And then I go and call myself selfish for even thinking that…. _fuck…”_  


Sanji felt his chest throb, in a strange way, almost as if his heart had been filled with cotton but continued to flutter lightly. It was an odd feeling, but dammit, it _was_ odd, to hear his own thoughts voiced so perfectly by his friend.  


It made his eyes burn, and he swallowed hard.  


“I think that all the time. About Pudding,” the cook breathed, unsure of why he was letting that spill. He never voiced these things to anyone, not wanting to sound weak or pathetic. “I think it about all of this shit, really…Big Mom….my brothers…feel like I’m just waiting for someone to fucking….sign the shitty permission form that says I can leave it all behind me.”  


Beside him, Zoro snorted, and for a second, Sanji thought he was being laughed at, something that disappointed him above all else.  


But instead, Zoro merely replied, “You got a pen?”  


The breath shuddered out of the cook, eyes quickly meeting Zoro’s before he’d decided upon it.  


Zoro smirked a little, then shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed as he turned away, facing front.  


Sanji sat there for a long moment, unsure of what to say or do, so he turned to face the steering wheel again, eventually starting the car as an afterthought.  


A hand moved to shift the car into reverse, but he stopped with a sharp inhale, wrapping hands around the wheel tightly and looking over at Zoro again.  


“Fight me,” he said, finally voicing something he’d wanted to happen for a while now. Ever since he’d first seen Zoro enter the dojo, jump that huge hurdle that had stood in his way for so long.  


“I _seriously_ need to kick the shit out of something, and, as it stands, you’re probably the only one who can take it,” he continued, though it came out quickly, a little nervously because Zoro hadn’t said anything.  


It shouldn’t really have been such a big deal, but Sanji knew. He knew Zoro hadn’t sparred with _anyone_ since…..well, since his wife. He hadn’t even picked up a weapon against his own daughter.  


He didn’t even care if Zoro fought him with his bare hands. He just wanted to go against someone he actually respected, for once. And----yes. Yes, he respected Zoro. He could admit that.  


But did Zoro feel the same way about him?  


Zoro didn’t reply right away, just swallowed hard and seemed to work for words…..until finally, he nodded, gaze shifting to the blond again.  


There was a bit of fear there, a bit of uncertainty, but there was also something else that Sanji couldn’t quite place.  


In fact, it was trust, Zoro acknowledged, as he watched his friend.  


“Okay,” the swordsman said, sealing his agreement.  


And even though his heart was pounding a little harder in his chest, it still felt pretty good.  


* * *

“Have you convinced your father to spar with you properly yet?” Robin asked as she drove her black Mercedes away from the middle school curb, Oliver in the front seat, and Thomas in the back with Tana.  


“Not yet,” Tana muttered, settling into the leather seat and stuffing her backpack near her feet.  


Where even was her dad? Her mind was entirely on that question because her dad had insisted the police stuff would be okay. And if he was going to be gone long enough to want Thomas and Oliver’s mom to pick her up, then something must be _wrong,_ right?  


“Ah,” Robin said, turning onto the main street as her son fiddled with the radio and began turning up the bass to the max on the speakers. She caught his hand smoothly to stop him without so much as looking.  


“I’d hoped maybe he had, considering where he is right now,” she added.  


“Where is he now…?” Tana asked, having to raise her voice when Oliver cranked the volume on the music instead. Thomas covered his ears beside her, and Tana punched the back of Oliver’s seat, which made her friend snicker and, thankfully, turn the music down, settling into playing quiet air guitar instead.  


“He and your friend, Sanji, were on their way to your grandfather’s, I believe,” Robin answered, glancing back at Tana through the rearview mirror. “I assumed for a bit of physical fun~”  


Her little innuendo went completely over the children’s heads, as she’d known would happen, Tana’s confusion seeming to come from a completely different place.  


“Really…?” the girl replied, a curious smile tugging slowly at the corners of her lips. “They’re gonna train?”  


“It would seem so. Judging by his text,” Robin said happily. “Perhaps he’ll have a date to the gala this weekend after all~”  


Oh, right. The annual museum gala. The one her parents had always attended to support Robin despite hating getting dressed up and sitting still for a fancy dinner.  


It would be the first year her dad was around again to attend, but she’d assumed he’d skip it entirely, especially after quitting his job with Crocodile. His former boss was always there, usually gave some long speech. She remembered from the year they’d dragged her along. It hadn’t been fun.  


“Aw, Mom, do we have to go to that?” Oliver whined in response, pausing his fake guitar playing to look over at his mother pleadingly. “It’s _so_ boring! There’s only so much they can say about cultivating history and forging a new future!”  


Robin chuckled.  


“But we’re adding some new pieces to the Egyptian temple this year~ Aren’t you interested in seeing them unveiled?”  


“I am,” Thomas piped up.  


His brother quickly looked back over his shoulder, muttering through clenched teeth, “But wouldn’t the _house to ourselves for a night_ be cooler?”  


The younger boy’s mouth formed an ‘O’ of realization, and he sunk back in his seat a little sheepishly.  


“Oh, yeah. That’d be cooler,” he remedied.  


Tana rolled her eyes over at him too, like he’d just ruined some grand scheme they’d been concocting, and as a matter of fact, he had. Having the run of Thomas and Oliver’s futuristic house for a night would probably be the most fun ever.  


“Am I correct in assuming you don’t want Paulie to babysit again~?” Robin asked, smiling knowingly at her two boys.  


“Mooom!” Oliver yelped, thoroughly embarrassed by his mother’s suggestion. “We’re too _old_ for a babysitter!”  


“What a shame,” she replied. “I seem to recall you all had a fun time last year~ He taught you how to lasso Mr. Boodle’s dog?”  


“Oh, yeah, that was pretty cool~” Oliver replied with a laugh, snapping right out of his complaining.  


Tana punched the back of his seat again.  


“But nah, Mom, we’ll be fine!” Oliver quickly amended, before moving his seat back all the way to try and crush Tana’s legs behind him in retaliation.  


“Doesn’t Dad have it set so only us and Mr. Roronoa can get in the house anyway?” Thomas added, trying to be more helpful this time. “He made me pluck a hair from his head for the DNA recognition when he was sleeping….and we all wondered if he’d died because he was sleeping face-down on a pillow.”  


“That’s a fact!” Oliver justified to his mom. “So no one’s gonna get in the house. And we won’t go in the pool or anything.”  


Again, Robin chuckled, and shot a smile at her sons when the car pulled up to a red light.  


“Perhaps you should compile a PowerPoint presentation tonight to help argue your case,” she suggested. “Your father and I will review it together and come to a decision.”  


Thomas and Oliver looked at each other, then at Tana, who quirked a brow at both of them, before they turned back to their mom.  


“How many slides?” Thomas asked, at the same time his brother wondered, “Can it include animation?”  


Tana smacked her palm to her forehead.  


“Simple animation is acceptable, yes,” Robin answered. “Nothing too distracting. And as for the slide quantity, so long as the presentation has clear opening and concluding statements, any amount is fine.”  


The boys then lapsed into a detailed discussion about how they could best plot out their argument.  


Tana, meanwhile, groaned and knocked her head against the headrest, staring at the ceiling in an attempt to drown out her friends.  


“Tana?” Robin said after a minute, talking over her sons. “I’d take you to your grandfather’s as well, but I don’t want to interrupt your father’s playdate. So I’m afraid you’ll have to endure these two for a while longer~”  


“It’s okay,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the ceiling, and though her tone sounded exasperated, her words were true.  


She’d told her dad she believed in him, believed that things could change for the both of them.  


Maybe her mom was still gone, but her dad was coming back. And even if she was going over to her friends’ for the millionth time in lieu of her dad being home, it was different now.  


She wasn’t going just to escape him anymore...  


* * *

“You got what you wanted,” Crocodile rumbled, taking the drinks Paula slid across to him from the other side of the bar and passing the massive sugar cookie martini to Linlin beside him.  


He wished the damn woman would stop coming to him. He was more than exhausted with filling her absurd orders for sweets and the like, and Paula seemed to commiserate, having shot him a look after having mixed a ridiculous concoction of chocolate and cream liqueur, butterscotch syrup, and vodka, all with fucking sprinkles on top. It was midday, and the casino rested for no one, but preparing such sweet abominations was not something his bartender appreciated.  


Paula rolled her eyes when her boss gestured for her to go back to work, but tugged her printed bandana tighter and moved to the other end of the bar to tend to a pair of idiots who were already drunk before the afternoon had ended.  


“Hody’s done, as you wanted, and for the life of me, I have no idea why you needed to consult with me about any of this,” Crocodile grumbled, watching Linlin guzzle down her drink with rather disgusting vigor.  


“Well, I didn’t _need_ you, Croc. It was simply in the interest of establishing an alliance,” Linlin replied, laughing far too loudly, a clump of sprinkles stuck to her terribly-painted lips. “Don’t you think that’s a good thing? The more allies the better! You’ll, of course, help me out when I need it, and I’ll help you~ Not to mention, between the two of us, if those darn Fishmen decide to retaliate, we’ll get ourselves out of it with no problems!”  


Crocodile stared at her, deadpan, waiting for something she said to make sense, or to make all of this trouble seem worth it. But as far as he knew, there was really no benefit to his involvement, and now he was saddled with this obnoxious burden of a woman.  


He got the feeling she’d just been looking to show off how ‘clever’ she was, even though he thought she was quite the opposite.  


“Paula,” he muttered quietly, yet the woman heard him, appearing opposite him despite the deafening noise of the casino in the background.  


Crocodile merely held up one finger and she nodded, knowing his drink order, the driest gin possible. He’d finish it in no time, however, so he twirled the same finger in indication he’d need another.  


Paula nodded, quirking a brow and doing her best to hide her irritation over the ridiculous situation her boss had gotten himself into.  


The man looked back over at his guest, who’d slammed a hand down on the table and started screeching, “Another, please!” in her grating voice, indicating her already empty glass.  


Paula stopped short, turned around with the fakest smile she could muster, and took up Linlin’s glass, the smile turning into more of a disgusted sneer when she saw all the crumbs that covered the woman’s face.  


She not-so-subtly wiped at her own mouth, not that Big Mom even got the hint. It was more for her own amusement anyway.  


Crocodile, meanwhile, was losing patience with this shit. He didn’t have time to sit here and humor the massive woman all day when she continued to butt in where she wasn’t wanted.  


_This_ wasn’t what he wanted. The casino, as big as it was, would never be enough so long as what he really wanted was still out there. What he’d wanted back for years.  


And he knew for a fact that the woman sitting across from him had managed to procure one such coveted item. He supposed he’d try his luck, his last test to see how useful she’d prove herself to be.  


“You say we’re allies,” he said, interrupting the stupid bout of horrendous humming the woman had fallen into. “Then I’d like to see you stick to your word. You own a Road Poneglyph. Let me buy it from you.”  


It wouldn’t be that easy. He was well aware of this, and it was obvious when Linlin merely ogled him for a second, then began laughing all over again.  


“Sell it to you? I’m afraid not, Croc! That old thing’s one of my most prized treasures! It’s absolutely not for sale. Not even to my friends~”  


He’d known she’d say that, and, as it was, her reply was enough to cement that he absolutely did not want her help obtaining the one he _really_ wanted, not if she was so protective over her own. It wasn’t worth the trouble.  


He fell into silence, gladly taking his drink when Paula slid both of the new ones over, swirling the liquid around in a few circles before lifting it for a long swig.  


“Wouldn’t it be fun if I killed that Vinsmoke boy~” Linlin was saying casually. “He was willing to turn me in! Betray me like that! I don’t want him in my family anymore! He’s not good enough for my lovely Pudding!”  


But Crocodile wasn’t listening, instead pulling the small plastic sword from his drink, the one that speared the olive, and studying it.  


No, he didn’t need Big Mom’s help to get his hands on _that_ poneglyph, the one that would give him the _most_ satisfaction to own.  


But he might be able to snag the help of someone who _could_ actually be of use to him. By force if need be.  


He’d told the man they were no longer allies. But all this ally talk was really just a bunch of bullshit, wasn’t it. Big Mom was proving that to him right now.  


His world was one of pirates, stuck on dry land, but pirates nonetheless. And pirates took what they wanted, when they wanted.  


He stabbed the sword back into the heart of the green olive.


	11. Connection

_There was something she wasn’t telling him._

_Zoro knew this, and Kuina had to have known he knew this. But she’d made the decision to avoid him all day, something that was ultimately hard to do seeing as they both worked at the dojo._

_It had been three years since he’d beaten her for the first time, earned their first kiss, almost one and a half since Zoro had graduated from high school and opted to pass on college to work at the dojo. And exactly three weeks since a drunken night had stolen both of their virginities._

_He was nineteen, and he hadn’t been thinking, but neither had she, and when they’d woken up in each other’s arms with massive hangovers, it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as it could have been._

_She’d looked at him, asked if he loved her, and when he’d forgotten how to breathe because she was so beautiful and perfect for him, he’d stammered out a somewhat foolish, “Yes.”_

_She hadn’t said it back, but she’d smiled._

_Since that day, life had been relatively normal, all things considered. They still sparred; they still bickered. However, the two of them were an item now, though they never really labeled each other as such, nor made any public show of it._

_But pulling each other into storage closets between lessons and making out within an inch of their lives probably fell under the ‘item’ category._

_Neither had pursued anything intimate since, not yet at least. It wasn’t something that was particularly high on either of their lists of desires. Their first time had been the result of too much alcohol, not to mention a sort of challenge, as things usually were between them._

_And this was why Kuina was perfect, because she understood that there were absolutely things Zoro could live without, and sex was one of them. They both had other things to focus on._

_He loved her, and he wanted them to belong to each other, even if it was unspoken._

_But he didn’t know what was wrong. He didn’t know why Kuina had suddenly started avoiding him, hadn’t even looked at him all day, and for the first time in his life, he felt insecure. Not about his kendo abilities or anything he could change._

_No, he felt insecure in his own skin, like the person who meant most to him had just deemed him entirely unworthy, and it fucking hurt, made him more upset than it should have._

_He’d worked himself up enough that, by the time they had to close up the dojo for the day, he hid his shoes, pretended to leave, then staked out in the hallway outside the training room he knew she’d be in._

_He heard the clack of wooden bokken being arranged in the storage closet within, so he leaned up against the wall and fucking waited, ready to catch her the second she came out._

_And sure enough, a few minutes later, he heard her footsteps getting closer to the door._

_As soon as she appeared in the doorway, he stepped out, actually startling her and causing her to stumble back._

_But her eyes soon narrowed and she kept moving, shoving him hard in the chest with a growled, “What the hell are you doing?”_

_“No, stop!” he insisted, moving in front of her again and putting hands on her shoulders, trying to keep the hurt from his tone. “What the hell are **you** doing? You haven’t said a fucking word to me all day! The hell’s your problem!”_

_She scoffed, tried to push past him again, even lifting her hands to grab his wrists in an attempt to wrench them off her._

_“I didn’t realize you were so **needy** , Zoro,” she muttered, instead ducking under his arm to get away. _

_He reached out again to stop her though, an arm stretching out to wrap around her waist in order to physically haul her back._

_Usually this wasn’t a problem. They had no issues getting physical with each other. For fuck’s sake, they sparred all the time, and lately, in particular, it had usually ended with one or both of them on the floor. They never worried about injuring each other._

_But for some reason, she panicked, in a way he’d never seen her do. His arm had barely made contact with her torso before she leaped back, pushed his arm away with all her might and backed into the training room again, bare feet sliding on the mats._

_“Don’t touch me!” she hissed, a flicker of fear in her eyes, and this had him drop his arm limply to his side, complete bewilderment coming to his features._

_Had he actually hurt her? No, he couldn’t have. She’d danced away before he could apply any sort of pressure, so why…?_

_Kuina stood there, eyes averted, looking uncomfortable as hell, a hand sneaking up to rest on her stomach for a second, though she quickly removed it, bringing it to her other arm instead._

_Zoro wasn’t sure how to react, falling somewhere between embarrassment and irritation, most of it to conceal how much this was twisting at his chest and making him anxious in ways he’d never felt before._

_The swordsman let out a breath, closed eyes for a second, all in an attempt to calm himself._

_“What’s wrong?” he tried, softening his voice a little, but it was hard to hide how unsettled he was. “I don’t---w-was it something I did?”_

_He couldn’t think of anything he’d done that might have made her this mad, but clearly it had to have been **something** when he saw the way she squeezed eyes shut and brought a hand up to cover them. _

_When she pulled her hand away, he was surprised to see the faint shimmer of unshed tears there, and, as always when he saw Kuina get emotional, he panicked himself. He felt himself flush, a surge of awkwardness wash over him._

_His urge, now, was to reach out and embrace her, but dammit, Kuina wasn’t the type to crumble and fall into his arms for comfort, and in situations like this, well, he still felt far too inexperienced._

_So he stood his ground, watching her helplessly._

_“Kuina…” he murmured. “What…?”_

_A few harsher breaths left her as she struggled to remain composed, knuckles pressed hard against her lips. It was as if she were terrified to tell him whatever was bothering her, which, frankly, surprised Zoro. He’d thought that, by now, they could talk to each other. Even if they both hated it, both sucked at it, they could open up, get shit off their chest, then forget about it._

_But he could tell by the way her confidence seemed to crawl away from her that this was something serious. Even her posture had changed, shoulders slumping, and an arm crossing over her ribs self-consciously, the other still lifted to her face._

_Finally, her hand slowly pulled away from her mouth so she could speak clearly, her gaze lifting to his with bravery, if not certainty._

_It took her a full few seconds to work up to what she was going to say._

_But eventually, the words came out of her mouth. And they were the furthest from what he’d ever expected._

_“Zoro….” she practically whispered. “I’m pregnant…”_

_Nothing. No reaction from the swordsman, at least not visibly, the only sign that he’d even heard her the slight tilt of his head and tiny furrow of his brow._

_Lips parted after a moment, eyes narrowing, and again he breathed, “What…?”_

_Her top lip curled up slightly, a sharp breath leaving her._

_“You heard me,” Kuina replied, her voice trembling._

_This time, the total force of the statement seemed to hit him, a piercing jolt of anxiety in his chest like he’d done something bad---very bad---and he couldn’t take it back._

_His eyes narrowed again and he shook his head slightly, now watching her, with growing desperation, for a sign she was messing with him._

_“You’re----you’re----you’re serious,” he stammered, his mind breaking a bit and struggling to form words._

_A shuddering breath left her, her facade beginning to crumble as the fear consumed her._

_Trembling hands came up to run over her face, staying over her mouth where she peeked out over them and nodded slowly, eyes on his face the whole time._

_His own breaths began to come faster, panic starting to overtake him and dread filling his gut._

_Fuck. What the hell had he done? He wasn’t ready for this. There was no way in hell he was. He’d never imagined this for himself period, let alone **now**. He was only nineteen. And now….he’d probably ruined everything for her too._

_What the hell did they do? Koshiro would probably murder him…_

_“H-Holy shit,” he stuttered out, stumbling back a step, feeling, for the first time in his life, well and truly helpless and unprepared, well and truly terrified._

_He raised his forearm and pressed it against the doorframe, digging his forehead into the back of his wrist and trying to wrap his head around everything._

_A kid. A **baby**. They weren’t even---they didn’t even have their own place. Kuina still lived with her dad, and he with his uncle. He’d been planning on moving out when he’d saved enough, but he was nowhere near that point and---and kids cost a fucking fortune and----it had been one time. **One time** , with way too much damn alcohol, and---_

_He heard Kuina let out a shuddering breath, saw, out of the corner of his eye, her hand reach up to frantically wipe at her eyes, and he knew. He had no fucking business being selfish about this._

_Zoro looked up, saw her standing there, a few paces away, alone and holding herself, head turned away from him, biting her lip as tears welled in her eyes._

_Kuina was the strongest person he knew, and this was scaring the hell out of her as well…._

_He pushed off the wall and crossed the room to her with no further thought, arms coming over her shoulders protectively and curling around her head, pulling her in close to his chest._

_She clung to him instantly, hands coming up to fist in his T-shirt, which seeped with wetness in the front where her tears met his shoulder._

_“I’m sorry,” he said seriously, pressing his nose against her soft hair and closing his eyes. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I was a complete idiot. I didn’t---”_

_She shook her head against him quickly, sniffling a few times before replying, “Shut up. It wasn’t---w-we were both stupid…”_

_There was nothing else for her to say, so she trailed off, both of them standing there holding each other, the only sound the cold wind outside signalling the coming winter._

_Eventually, one of her hands slid from his back, coming between them so she could wipe at her eyes again._

_Zoro pulled back to give her some space, his own chest and throat tight with emotion as well, but he kept his eyes on her, his heart pounding against his ribs._

_“I thought….you’d run when I told you,” she muttered, wetness smeared over her face._

_His hand came up to brush at it, tuck some hair away from her eyes._

_“Why would I do that? When the fuck have I ever run from anything?” he replied, somewhat miraculously able to shoot her an exasperated look despite how compromised he still felt._

_“I don’t know…” Kuina mumbled, a little miserably, giving a slow shrug._

_He sighed, feeling the urge to rub at the back of his neck in that nervous habit of his, but he kept his hands firmly at the back of Kuina’s neck, thumbs stroking gentle circles there._

_“Listen,” he started to say, uncertainty coming over him as his thoughts turned to things he’d never thought about before---at least not as it related to his life. Fuck, it was weird…_

_“I---I don’t know shit---about this kind of stuff, but---whatever you wanna do---keep it or----or not---I----I’m with you. I don’t---i-it’s your decision,” Zoro managed, hardly feeling qualified to speak on this matter at all._

_Fuck, he was only nineteen---he couldn’t stop thinking that._

_To his surprise, Kuina actually laughed a little, just quietly, but her lips turned up, and her eyes rose to his again, looking a bit more relaxed, even grateful._

_“I have no idea,” she replied honestly. “I just---for the past few days, I’d been feeling kind of bad, and so, this morning, I decided to check and----okay, y’know what, those are details I’m not gonna tell your dumb face.”_

_He scoffed, looked indignant, though he was secretly glad for her stubbornness._

_Instead, there was a beat, and then she brought her hands around, snaking them up to touch his jaw, play with the three golden hoops on his left ear gently._

_“We are not ready,” she said decisively, echoing his thoughts from earlier, gaze fixed on those earrings. She shook her head slightly. “There is no way in hell. I---I told you I started saving some so I could travel to competitions, but it’s not enough, and----and as far as actually **being** pregnant goes---fucking shit, I couldn’t---couldn’t do **anything** , and---and then there’s you. You’re a complete doofus---what help would you be?”_

_This she said with a tiny growing smirk, the reaction she’d been fishing for to make herself feel better coming a second later._

_“Hey! What the fuck! You saying I’d be a bad father?!”_

_“Uh, yeah!” she replied, though she didn’t believe a word. She saw how he was with the kids during lessons. Whether he was aware of it or not, Zoro had a natural affinity with children. “You actually think you could provide for a kid? You can’t even shower regularly!”_

_“That’s not true! Once a week is a regular schedule!” he yelped in protest._

_“And it’s fucking disgusting! You can’t even be assed to do laundry! What have you ever done to make me believe you’d be a responsible parent!”_

_“That a fucking challenge?” he shot back. “‘Cause I’ll prove you wrong! And y’know, seeing as all you wanna do is train twenty-four seven, can’t see you paying much attention to a kid either!”_

_Kuina growled at him and gave him a shove backwards, sticking a finger in his chest._

_“No. Don’t even try this---we are not making a damn challenge of this! This is serious!” she hissed, huffing out a breath. “I haven’t even told my dad yet….fuck, he’s gonna kill me---us!”_

_Her words confirmed what had run through Zoro’s own mind, and he let out a breath in similar fashion, drawing in brows as the mood took another dip._

_Neither of them said anything more for a long minute, both lost in their own worries, countless scenarios running through their heads, most of them far too stressful to imagine._

_Still, Zoro found his eyes drifting back to her face, and he realized there was one source of comfort in all of this._

_He stepped forward, brought hands to her hips, a brow quirking mischievously._

_“Don’t you think a kid of ours would be pretty badass though?” he asked, bringing his forehead to hers and stealing a little kiss to her lips. “Beatin’ up bullies an’ wreckin’ stuff?”_

_He got his prize, a soft snicker, and she tilted her head to kiss him back._

_“Yeah,” she admitted. “That’s probably the only reason I’d go through with it.”_

_He chuckled too, pulling her closer, closing his eyes when he felt her fingers thread in his hair._

_“It’s like I said though,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against hers. “It’s your decision. Your body an’ all that…”_

_“I know,” she replied, sounding much more sure of herself than before, and he smiled gently, her strength working to soothe him a bit._

_Their lips had met again, and he wasn’t sure when, just that they had, that familiar reassurance coursing through him, closing the hidden circuit that had remained open for so many years, neither of them understanding what they truly meant to one another._

_“Hey, Zoro,” she breathed against his lips after a minute, and he made a quiet noise in question, already looking to reclaim that contact with kisses to her jaw._

_She waited until he was thoroughly distracted by her throat, lavishing her fair skin with small nips of affection that would surely leave marks later._

_“I love you,” she said, a smile in her voice, and she laughed out loud when his lips stopped altogether, a strangled sound leaving him._

_She patted his cheek, still grinning, and, in that moment, the future didn’t terrify her quite as much._

* * *

Sanji stood opposite him on the mats, barefoot, his jacket discarded and a shirt sleeve rolled up to his elbow, fingers working on rolling up the other. 

Zoro faced him, having taken off both his jacket and his dress shirt, not knowing how the cook managed to move freely while still wearing one. 

He stood there, wearing only his white tank top instead, which, whether he was aware of it or not, effortlessly showed off muscles in a way that made him look like he’d just fucking stepped off a Criminal runway, in Sanji’s opinion. Something that was frustrating as hell considering all the effort the blond put into _his_ appearance. 

Zoro was watching him, fists at his side, and a weird look in his eye as he waited for Sanji to finish with his sleeve-rolling. 

As soon as he did, he looked up at Zoro behind a curtain of blond hair and said, “I thought about it, and I want you to use a bokken. I wanna see what you got.”

Something about this prospect had his heart fluttering in anticipation. He’d already had a shot at Zoro, but he’d never seen Zoro fight. He’d heard about it from his daughter, saw how knowledgeable he was when coaching her. But seeing him in action? It was almost like witnessing some legend come to life. He didn’t care if the man was rusty. He just wanted to see him _try._

“I told you, cook,” Zoro muttered in response. “M’not using one.”

“Are you afraid?” Sanji immediately taunted, stepping closer to the man. “You’re not gonna hurt me with a stick, Zoro.”

“Shut it, asshole,” Zoro hissed, glaring at Sanji when the blond started to circle him with an infuriating smirk on his face. “I’m really not---!”

“We know how this ends, mosshead,” Sanji interrupted. “Judging by all the other shit I’ve gotten you to do. Each of those things you’ve gotten over. You did it. So do it again!”

To this, Zoro growled and looked away, _knowing_ Sanji was right, but this was….

Kuina flashed before his eyes, her features twisted in agony. He felt her sickly warm blood on his hands, saw it smear over her pale skin when he brought a shaking hand to her face, trying to soothe her through his own panic as her breaths hitched and her dull eyes met his, one last---

Two hands met his chest and shoved him back, causing him to nearly fall over clear on his ass before he caught himself. 

“You’re a _master swordsman,_ aren’t you?” Sanji was insisting, getting up in his face now. “It’s fucking insulting to me if you won’t use your damn weapon of choice, so come on! Let’s go!”

Zoro didn’t move, just stammered and stared at him, Kuina’s fading light still stuck in his vision. 

Sanji let out a frustrated sound, and without further ado, marched over to the storage closet, sliding open the doors and reaching in to pull out a long black bokken, one definitely made for adults. 

He all but slammed the doors shut and stalked right back to Zoro, shoving the weapon into Zoro’s hand forcibly. 

_“Show her you’re not defeated, Zoro,”_ Sanji said in a fierce whisper, close to the other man’s face, and it was unclear who exactly he meant---Zoro’s late wife or his daughter---but he’d sort of intended the ambiguity, knowing Zoro would fight for his family either way. 

Blue eyes searched for that spark to return to Zoro’s eyes. It would. He knew it would. He just had to get it burning. 

Zoro stood there for a long moment, gripping the hilt of the weapon, his gaze fixed on his hand, brow drawn in tensely. 

Sanji waited, watched and waited.

Until, finally, Zoro’s eyes closed and he let out a breath. 

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled quietly, and for a second, Sanji’s heart fell. 

But then, Zoro lifted a sharp gaze to Sanji’s and finished, “Not without _two_ of these.”

Sanji couldn’t help it. The dumbest broad grin worked its way onto his face in an instant. 

“You idiot,” the cook replied, and he reached up to pat the man’s cheek, though it was more of a slap judging by the high-pitched yelp of, “Ow!” the mighty swordsman let loose as Sanji passed him to retrieve another bokken. 

But when Sanji returned, he just caught a glimpse of the remnants of a smile on Zoro’s face too, one that he quickly tried to hide.

“Better not let me down. Tana’s hyped you up quite a bit, y’know,” Sanji said, tossing Zoro the other bokken and backing up a few steps. 

“Yeah, well…” Zoro muttered, eyes on his hands as he adjusted his grip slightly, then twirled both bokken through the air, bringing them around to a starting position at his sides in a stylish move that still managed to look completely natural.

The swordsman lifted a smirk to Sanji, and for some reason, be it because of his own excitement….or Zoro’s confidence, he forgot how to breathe for a second.

He stared at Zoro, not realizing a matching smirk had come to his lips too, and he snorted.

“Show-off,” he replied, a little breathlessly, and jerked his chin at the other man. “Seeing as I already got a shot at your face, you move first. Only fair, right?”

“Che.”

Zoro scoffed, trying hard to hide the fact that his heart was pounding nervously in a way it _never_ did before a fight. No matter who he was up against, how important the fight, he’d always been able to focus himself, steady his movements and give his all no matter what. 

And Sanji had been right. He owed this to the cook, as much as he hated that fact. He _knew_ Sanji was skilled, and he owed it to him to not hold back, to see only him and not the past. 

Because Sanji was not his past. Sanji was now. Sanji insisted on leading him into his future. And if he thought about how fucking compelled he was, by some unknown force, to follow the cook there, he felt his breaths slow, his gaze sharpening, and his muscles release some of their tension. 

He’d moved before he even really planned it, body working on sheer muscle memory as he darted forward and rotated both bokken in his grasp simultaneously, torso twisting and powerful arms raising the weapons to aim a diagonal attack at the blond. 

Sanji hunkered down low, then dropped hands to the floor and kicked up to meet the wooden blades, stopping both effectively with one foot. 

Tingles shot through Zoro’s entire body, that familiar spark he’d always felt with Kuina, that came from matching his power with another, honing his strength into an attack. 

Sanji grinned confidently up at him. 

Zoro’s body transitioned smoothly into another move, as if the past year hadn’t happened at all, and the swordsman knew, for the first time _in_ that year, that this was something he could do. This was something he remembered; this was something that was _part of him._

And maybe he hadn’t deserved to keep himself from it for all this time.

Sanji pushed off his hands, hurling himself forward and stretching out a long leg to swing a roundhouse kick straight for the swordsman’s torso, something Zoro blocked again effortlessly. 

He didn’t linger though, moving immediately after. He sliced his bokken down out of the way before bringing them up again in parallel motion to connect with Sanji’s shin. 

This time, the force was enough to send the cook flying back, Zoro’s strength catching him off guard, and Zoro took full advantage of his stumble to advance yet again, whipping his body around to nail Sanji directly in the side with both bokken, sure to leave a bruise. 

The cook fell to the ground, clutching his side and panting, just before Zoro stabbed a bokken straight down onto the floor in front of Sanji’s face, smirking down at him with confidence. 

Sanji stared at the weapon in shock for a moment, then flicked eyes up to the swordsman’s face. 

With that look of pure exhilaration the idiot had, Sanji couldn’t help but smile. This was a look he hadn’t yet seen from the mosshead. He’d never seen him properly in his element until now. 

And he couldn’t deny some of that exhilaration was rubbing off on him. 

“Again, you bastard,” he fake-grumbled, pushing himself up to his feet and pushing hair out of his eyes. 

“I wasn’t even trying,” Zoro said smugly, but backed up to let Sanji get ready. 

They went again, the swordsman moving with more grace and precision than the blond ever thought him capable of with his lumbering form. 

They clashed over and over, coming in close, Zoro snapping teeth playfully a few times before they’d pushed off each other again, and Sanji realized this must have been who Zoro truly was. Cocky, irritating, but absolutely brilliant at his craft, and it clearly gave him joy.

He slipped up a few times, held back when he shouldn’t have and gave Sanji an opening, but the cook hoped that the more he practiced, the more it would come back to him. 

Regardless, Zoro had stamina, and this meant they could spar until Sanji had thoroughly worked off every last bit of his anger from their meeting with Smoker. 

It had ended with Zoro’s bokken, slashing an X over Sanji’s torso, sending him crashing to the mats, flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

Zoro’s foot met his chest, keeping him down, and he leaned in closer.

“What do you think, cook?” he asked, panting himself. “Calling it quits?”

“Get your smelly foot off me!” Sanji huffed, shoving him away, then lifting up his shirt to get a look at the long red welts adorning his ribs. 

“Shit,” he breathed, falling back onto his elbows and shaking his head up at the swordsman, letting his shirt fall back down. “Fine, we’re even. For now.”

Zoro laughed triumphantly, and the sound was so uninhibited, so strange coming from Zoro that the cook raised brows, shook his head disbelievingly. 

“Okay, don’t be an asshole about it,” Sanji muttered, wiping at his mouth and trying to keep a grin from his face as well. If the both of them were in here smiling like idiots, then that would just be stupid.

His eyes fell to Zoro’s side where he knew he’d connected hard with a kick, so he sat up, resisting the urge to wince, and scooted himself closer to the swordsman, who’d plopped himself down on the floor too, crossing legs, his bokken across his lap. 

“Let me see where I hit you,” he said, gesturing for Zoro to lift his shirt.

“You didn’t hurt me, cook,” Zoro replied, swatting at Sanji’s creeping hand. 

“Then there shouldn’t be a mark,” the cook insisted, shooting Zoro a look until the swordsman rolled his eyes and reluctantly rolled up his shirt. 

To Sanji’s satisfaction, there was a foot-shaped red blotch on Zoro’s right side, between his ribs and his hip, and he made sure to redirect the swordsman’s own smug expression back at him.

The cook’s fingers reached out automatically to touch it, something that Zoro actually didn’t shy away from, but he certainly lifted eyes to Sanji’s face, holding his gaze there curiously.

Unlike the first time Sanji had touched an injury of his, he remained still, the sensation of another’s hand touching his bare torso something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Sanji’s touch was different, and yes, he could fully admit to himself that he was comparing the blond’s touch to Kuina’s. He couldn’t exactly help it. 

His touch was different, fingers rougher and longer, but he was still gentle as could be. And when he slid fingers slowly, the swordsman sucked in an audible breath automatically. 

The cook seemed to become aware of what he was doing, hearing that breath, especially when he lifted eyes and found Zoro watching him. He quickly pulled his hand away. 

“You’re probably fine,” he muttered, and was his face actually going red? 

Zoro kept eyes on him, breathing lightly as he slowly rolled down his shirt again.

Things felt all too familiar, like déjà vu hitting him, sitting here on the training room mats, the two of them alone, none of the after-school classes having started yet. They were alone and he felt fucking sixteen again, riding the high of a good fight, but unsure of where to channel that energy now. 

It had all made sense when he and Kuina had finally hooked up, but this was….

His mind went there, of course, with Sanji, knowing what had happened with Kuina. 

He’d never put stock in gender preferences. He liked who he liked and it just so happened the first person he’d fallen for had been a fucking incredible woman. 

He stopped himself though, from even allowing himself to picture anything further with anyone else. He still wanted Kuina, still loved her, missed her more than anything, and he knew, if she were here, he’d take her back in an instant.

And yet that was unrealistic, unhealthy even, wasn’t it. 

She wasn’t coming back, and there was someone here, right in front of his face, who, in the past few weeks alone, had given him more than anyone in the wake of Kuina’s death. 

Sanji had given him strength, comfort, reassurance. He’d taken care of his daughter, walked with him as he confronted things he never thought he’d be able to again. 

Sanji wasn’t Kuina. But he was a way forward.

He just didn’t want to confuse himself over what kind of way forward he was….

The soft chime of a phone alert interrupted the silence, something Zoro was a little glad for. It seemed Sanji was too, already scrambling up, knowing it was his phone. 

He walked over to his jacket, laid out neatly on the floor by the door, next to Zoro’s crumpled one, his phone resting on top. 

“Oh no…” he muttered, upon seeing just what the alert was. 

“What…?” Zoro said, his heart, which had still been beating rapidly in his chest, now sinking. 

Sanji walked back over to him, a hand in his hair, and he lowered himself to the mats opposite Zoro again. 

“It’s a text from Pudding,” he said, showing Zoro her name across his screen. 

Zoro let out a breath, then clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“Just ignore it, cook,” he advised. “Let’s be done with this shit.”

“I can’t just ignore it,” Sanji replied, still staring at his phone. “What if---”

“What if what! Nothing good is gonna come of it if you answer!” the swordsman insisted, feeling anger rise within him. 

They were done. Zoro had thought maybe they could start to move on from all of this drama, and he knew he’d been right to hate this Pudding bitch from the start. She was bad news, and while he didn’t know exactly what had gone down to break her and Sanji up, he didn’t care. If she’d hurt Sanji, then…

“Let me just see what it says,” the cook muttered, tapping the screen with his thumb to open her message. 

Eyes flicked over it, narrowing slightly, and he tilted his head.

Zoro had let out a frustrated noise, and Sanji could feel his heart beginning to pound. 

After a few moments, Zoro raised eyebrows at him.

“Well? What’s it say?” the swordsman prompted, and Sanji looked up to meet his impatient gaze. 

“It says, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know anything about Hody. I want to justify myself,’” he dictated, to which Zoro immediately shook his head adamantly.

“No. Uh uh. She doesn’t fucking get to! Like hell she didn’t know!” he exclaimed, and though Sanji _knew_ Zoro was right, a traitorous part of him still wanted to believe Pudding, wanted to believe that there was still some good in her. 

“I….” Sanji stammered, feeling incredibly torn, but Zoro wasn’t having it.

“Cook! Don’t be stupid! Just leave it! Whether she knew or not doesn’t fucking matter! It happened, and now---”

“So should I just---not give her a chance?!” Sanji shot back. “Zoro, maybe---listening to her _will_ help put it behind us!”

“She’s had a fucking year to apologize to you, cook!” Zoro argued. “She doesn’t deserve to---”

“And you’ve had a fucking year to sort your shit out too, Zoro!” the blond insisted without thinking. “And last I checked, you hadn’t done that either!”

He was seething now, fire working its way into his blood because how dare Zoro attack Pudding. How dare he decide if Pudding was worthy of a second chance or not. He didn’t know Pudding. He didn’t know the kindness and tenderness she _was_ capable of, that he was _sure_ wasn’t an act. 

But it simmered within him entirely as soon as he saw Zoro’s shoulders slump, the anger on his face turning inward. He looked away, staring at the wall, and swallowing hard. 

Fuck. 

“I’m sorry,” Sanji remedied, wilting and running a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean….” He sighed heavily. “I don’t know why I’m being so damn defensive of her still….”

Zoro closed his eyes and shrugged. But then he opened them and turned them to the cook again, a little sadly, Sanji thought. 

“Because you still care about her,” he answered matter-of-factly, and immediately Sanji’s eyes burned. 

He didn’t want it to be true, especially not after seeing her again two weeks ago. He’d thought his mistrust had been enough to make certain the fact that he _didn’t_ care.

But...well...it apparently wasn’t so easy for him to do that….

“I don’t--- _want_ to though…” Sanji hissed, unable to look Zoro in the eye any longer. 

He felt vulnerable, like his own dark secret had been uncovered. And while he’d already sort of admitted it to Zoro after their visit with Smoker, having it put out in the open, making him feel things he didn’t want to be feeling anymore, he was ashamed. 

Zoro seemed to sense his mental battle, because when the swordsman finally spoke again, he’d softened his voice somewhat.

“If it’ll make you feel better, then talk to her,” Zoro muttered. “But don’t do anything you’d regret.”

He hated the tone in Zoro’s voice. It was almost defeated, and that was heartbreaking considering how _good_ they’d both been feeling up until now. Yet again, Sanji’s past was ruining things…..with someone who Sanji was quickly coming to realize he didn’t _want_ to ruin things with. No matter what. 

The cook sighed. 

He allowed himself to look at Zoro again.

The other man had dropped his head, fingers absently tracing the ito banded tightly around the hilt of one of the bokken. And he remembered what the swordsman had said in the car earlier, thought about how awful he must’ve felt for seeing his dead wife’s doppelgänger. He couldn’t even imagine...and the more he thought about it, the more he felt like a total dick for burdening Zoro with his own problems. 

“You said you wanted to let go….” Sanji found himself murmuring a moment later, eyes on Zoro’s stoic face the whole time. “That you wanted to move on. Does that mean you still love her?”

He heard Zoro let out a long breath, and in reality, the swordsman’s heart had clenched hard. 

Sanji had touched on exactly what he’d been thinking before, and for some reason, he felt nervous about revealing the truth. He was nervous of what Sanji would think of him, especially after his insistence that Sanji forget about Pudding. 

He lifted his gaze, dark eyes meeting blue, something that had his heart pounding harder in his chest. 

He somehow managed to keep his voice steady when he answered.

“I’ll always love her. She’s the mother of my daughter.”

His reply had Sanji nodding slowly, the cook surprisingly not jumping on him for his lingering feelings. Sanji understood, after all. Kuina had never done anything to lose Zoro’s trust or love. They’d still been happy together when she’d died. There was no reason Zoro shouldn’t still love her. 

“I’m jealous of you, Zoro,” the cook admitted after a second, lips turning up a little sadly when Zoro quirked a brow and tilted his head in confusion.

“You’re jealous of _me?”_ he asked, sounding skeptical, and Sanji shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You had it. Had everything. A good relationship. A _family.”_

Zoro looked about to protest, but Sanji quickly raised a hand to stop him before he continued.

 _“Regardless_ of what happened….you still have those good memories to hold on to. I’ve….always wanted that. That’s all I ever wanted with Pudding…” 

He sighed, looking a little sheepish as he added, “You’ll kick my ass if I call you ‘lucky’ but…”

“Damn straight…” Zoro muttered quickly. 

But it wasn’t because he was angry. In fact, he seemed a tiny bit amused as well. Yet, even if he did have good memories, he wouldn’t exactly call it the luck of the gods that all of it had come crashing down on him.

Still, Sanji was sitting there, saying he was jealous of something _everyone_ should have. Maybe Zoro hadn’t had it in the conventional sense, growing up, but he’d had _some_ form of a support system. He didn’t know much about Sanji’s past, but it seemed the cook hadn’t had that. 

It fucking sucked.

So while he probably wasn’t lucky in some senses of the word, he couldn’t exactly go around discounting the cook’s feelings.

He thought back to a time when he’d felt similar. Because, in the beginning, he’d been jealous of Kuina, hadn’t he. Kuina had lost her mother when she was born, but her dad was always around, always there for her. She lived at the dojo, and everything seemed so secure for her. 

He’d had his uncle, but the man hadn’t exactly been the type to show his love often and openly. 

He’d wanted what Kuina had, and it sure seemed like the world was an endless cycle of the same. There was really no use feeling sorry for oneself, was there. 

“She forgave me, y’know,” Zoro murmured, saying the first thought that came to his mind. Maybe, in any other situation, it would’ve been a weird thing to say, but right then, he didn’t think the cook would much care. “The last thing she said to me was that everything was gonna be okay.”

The cook looked surprised for a second before his expression relaxed some, realizing what Zoro was talking about. 

There was nothing to say to that, so he simply asked, “Do you think it will be?”

The swordsman’s gaze fell back to his lap, feeling the embarrassment from his statement a little too late. It was fucking sappy and _personal._ He’d never told _anyone_ about that before, he realized.

“I didn’t think so, for a long time,” he muttered in reply, because Sanji was obviously looking for one. “But….now m’startin’ to think it’s possible….”

The awkwardness that had come over him was palpable, fingers tracing absent patterns over the smooth bokken in his lap, cheeks heating a little bit. 

A small smile began to come over Sanji’s face, seeing Zoro look like that. It was actually kind of…..dare he think it, _endearing_ ….in a way. But no, that was weird to think about a lout like _Zoro._

Sanji couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head and running a hand back through his hair.  


“This got way too deep,” he said, and his delight only grew when he saw Zoro’s ears begin to tinge red as well, the swordsman keeping his gaze firmly in his lap.  


“You started it,” he mumbled, to which Sanji gave a short disbelieving laugh.  


“Did not,” he answered swiftly.  


“Did too,” Zoro shot back, ever the five-year-old, Sanji thought.  


The cook leaned back on a palm, still content to study the emotionally compromised swordsman. He enjoyed having the upper hand. 

But he didn’t want the man's mind to get stuck somewhere it shouldn’t.  


“Hey. Zoro,” he said after a minute, during which the mosshead had yet to look up.  


He waited until Zoro finally did to ask, “Would we have gotten along?”  


Zoro rose a brow in silent question, so Sanji clarified.  


“Me and Kuina.”  


He’d asked the question in a lighthearted manner, but part of him still expected Zoro to get a faraway look in his eye, to go quiet again.  


But the swordsman surprised him as a rather dopey smile started to slowly pull at his lips, Zoro raising a hand immediately to try and conceal it, though he didn’t quite manage in time.  


Sanji couldn’t help but grin back.  


“If I tell you she would’ve thought you were an annoying prick, you probably wouldn’t believe me, would you?” Zoro replied, sticking his tongue in his cheek, anything to suppress his dumb smile.  


“Nope~” Sanji replied easily. “Not with that stupid look on your face.”  


Zoro rolled his eyes and looked away, and again the word ‘endearing’ settled itself in Sanji’s mind. His reaction had been just like his daughter’s, when he’d expressed his approval of Kuina to her.  


“She was prettier than Tashigi, right?” the cook continued, deciding to try and keep this going.  


Clearly, Zoro liked it when she was mentioned, and considering he’d probably never talked about her with anyone for a fucking year, this had to be good. It wasn’t fair to let her be lost to the rest of the world. That’s how he felt about his own mother, after all.  


“Yeah,” Zoro answered, nodding, his cheeks flushing again slightly, and he looked downright bashful when he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck.  


“Thought so,” Sanji replied. “Your daughter had to get her looks from somewhere, cactus head~”  


“Oi! Says the guy with swirly eyebrows!”  


“For the last fucking time, they’re not _swirly!_ I don’t know where you get that fucking idea!”  


It wasn’t long before both of them had a few more bruises to go along with the ones they already sported.  


* * *

His shift at the Baratie wasn’t for another few hours, but Sanji left the dojo soon after that, with promises to text Zoro later. He’d left in good spirits, but as soon as he sat in his empty car, Zoro staying behind, he wished he wasn’t alone.  


Zoro had been a good distraction, despite what they’d dealt with that morning, and sparring with the man had been cleansing, somehow. He didn’t like having his ass kicked, but….well, okay, maybe he did a little, in the healthy way. It meant he had a real challenge, and it seemed Zoro could be his equal in strength.  


These were good things.  


And yet, without Zoro, his worries returned.  


Reiju still hadn’t replied to his questions about their brothers’ account, and while that wasn’t unusual, his mysterious sister usually only reachable by direct phone call, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to reply anymore. The less drama the better.  


After all, that still left Pudding’s text without reply….  


He wasn’t going to respond. He wasn’t.  


But he feared his own weakness, feared what it would urge him to do.  


By the time he’d driven off towards the Whole Cake district, he knew to be terrified.  


* * *

Zoro had stayed at the dojo for an hour or so after Sanji left. He’d wanted to meditate, wanted to push all of his stress of the day from his mind. But when he’d settled down to do just that, his thoughts had come right back to the blond, even in his attempts to clear them.  


Sparring with Sanji had been incredible, made him feel things he hadn’t felt since he’d lost Kuina, and it only made him want more.  


But, thinking about it, he selfishly felt like he could lose it all again.  


Because what if the dumb cook went and talked to Pudding in the end? He’d thought the blond sounded level about it by the time they parted ways, but he was coming to realize just how damn powerful the cook’s emotions could be when influencing his actions.  


He had no proof Sanji would contact her, but it _scared_ him, and maybe, just maybe, he was jealous.  


Of what? He had no right to be, but dammit, he was, and despite the good time he and Sanji had shared, it still managed to thoroughly sour his mood by the time he showed up at Robin’s to pick up his daughter. He knew his friend could’ve driven Tana home, but he’d needed to blow off some steam, so the run had helped with that a little….even if it had taken far longer than it needed to due to a few wrong turns, unbeknownst to him.  


It was late afternoon, and Zoro was a little surprised when Franky answered the door. Usually he was still at work at this hour.  


“Hey, bro. Thought you’d text. Come on in,” the larger man greeted, dressed casually in an open Hawaiian shirt and a pair of gym shorts that Zoro knew he wore for the kids’ sake. Franky had always been one to prefer walking around in his underwear.  


“You off work?” Zoro asked, following him into the house.  


“Ah, yeah, just takin’ a few hours now. Gotta work late tonight---big project---so wanted to see the fam~” Franky replied as they walked through the entrance, past the towering Poneglyph and down the hall towards the kitchen.  


Robin was seated on a stool by the counter, sipping a steaming cup of coffee, a rather hefty book open in front of her amidst a mess of tools spread over the counter.  


“Zoro~ I didn’t expect you to come. I could have taken Tana home myself,” she said, though her smile said she was happy to see him.  


“It’s fine,” he replied. “I was....around.”  


He trailed off, eyes scanning the tools before him, drifting to the ten-inch rectangular hole in the wall beneath the cabinets by the sink, various wires sticking out of it. On the counter in front of it was a touch-screen panel that looked in the midst of being dismantled.  


Franky moved over to the construction zone as soon as he entered the room, a grin on his face.  


“Sorry for the craziness~ Wirin’ a few new things to the control panel.” The _house’s_ control panel, as ridiculous as it sounded. “Soon as I’m done, this baby’s gonna learn a few more attacks!”  


“What,” Zoro asked, monotone, staring at his friend like he’d lost his mind.  


“Sure thing!” Franky replied excitedly. “If there’s ever some huge emergency? I dunno, an earthquake or alien invasion or shit---someone tryin’ to break in? Well, last year I added the beams, but now, we’re talkin’ flamethrowers!”  


Zoro stared at him, at the avalanche of screwdrivers and motherboard parts scattered about, none of which could effectively program a house to do _anything,_ as far as he knew, let alone fire shit at people.  


“Would you like to be a test subject, Zoro~?” Robin mused, smiling casually.  


“Where’s my daughter…?” he asked, shooting her an unamused look, and she chuckled.  


“I'm sorry, she was Test Subject A,” Robin replied, setting down her drink, and amended, _“Upstairs,”_ when Zoro looked much less than amused. “Shall I fetch her for you?”  


“Your house’ll probably shoot me if _I_ try, huh,” he muttered drily in return.  


Robin chuckled again, and exchanged a glance with her husband, replying, "Quite right."  


Dark humor aside though, there were still worrisome things to discuss, primarily Zoro’s trip to the police that morning, which Robin and Franky had been made aware of.  


“How were things this morning…?” Robin asked, and Franky set down his screwdriver, turning to give the two his full attention.  


Zoro had seen the question coming, knowing they wouldn’t be able to resist asking. It was fine. Part of him did want to talk about it, though he didn’t want to reveal every detail about what had happened with Sanji....the things he’d been feeling, and the frustrations he’d felt.  


“I told you what happened with his brothers. What they wanted him to do,” Zoro murmured, keeping his voice down in the off chance one of the kids was snooping. He knew they’d know just whose brothers he was talking about. “He thought it was Big Mom’s account, but her and Crocodile set him up in order to frame Hody instead. He was kind of….a common enemy of theirs, I guess…”  


Again, Franky and Robin exchanged a look before Robin leaned an elbow on the counter, resting her chin on fingers.  


“I see. So it was, essentially, all for naught,” she said.  


“Yeah,” Zoro replied. “It sucks. He…..wanted Big Mom in real bad.”  


Zoro trailed off, wanting to keep from telling her everything about the cook’s sentiments. That felt….private....like something only he and Sanji should know.  


Franky sighed heavily and ran a large hand over his stubbly head.  


“Well, on the bright side, guess we won’t have to worry about seein’ any of those Fishmen at the gala on Saturday. Without Hody, doubt they’ll represent.”  


Robin nodded.  


“Crocodile, on the other hand….” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She looked to Zoro then, a sparkle of mischief in her eye. “I don’t suppose you’ll be attending, will you, Zoro?”  


He merely shot her a look that affirmed the negative, to which Robin sighed faintly.  


“That’s a shame,” she said, then pushed up from the counter. “I thought perhaps you’d bring your new friend~ I’ll tell the children you’re here.”  


Then she headed from the room with one last fleeting glance over her shoulder.  


As soon as she left, Franky gave a wiggle of eyebrows and turned back to his work.  


“Well, can’t say I blame ya, bro, for skippin’ out. Startin’ to get bored of it myself. Too many damn speeches. Though I think you’re gonna spoil the kids’ fun. They all wanted to stay home alone~”  


“I don’t gotta _babysit_ ‘em,” Zoro muttered. “I’ll find something else to do.” He paused then, narrowing eyes at his friend currently hunched over a few wires with a pair of pliers. “Hold on, is that why you’re turning the house into a Transformer?”  


“Kinda,” Franky admitted with a broad grin. “Been wantin’ to do this for a while though~ Ever since those squirrels started gettin’ in Robin’s flowers out back~”  


Zoro couldn’t help but snicker, the ridiculous image of a squirrel getting fried to a crisp by a flamethrower running through his mind.  


“If you test it out, call me,” the swordsman replied, grinning too, and Franky couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself for making Zoro laugh.  


He hadn’t seen the man this happy in a while.  


* * *

The afternoon was clear, enough so that when Zoro and his daughter left Franky and Robin’s house, they were both just fine with walking. And with Tana leading and physically steering her dad away from taking wrong turns, it wasn’t going to take nearly as long as it could have to get back to their apartment.  


Neither of them spoke for a while, but it was obvious that Tana wanted to. She’d been stealing glances at her dad a few times every block, watching him to see if he looked upset, after this morning, or even the opposite, after hanging out with Sanji.  


When she stopped paying attention to where she was going and walked right into an oncoming man, who pleasantly cursed her out, Zoro finally took notice.  


He pulled his daughter out of the way protectively, flipped the asshole off, and kept his hand on her shoulder as they kept walking on.  


“You spacin’ out or somethin’?” he asked her once they’d made it farther down the block.  


_“No,”_ Tana grumbled, annoyed now. “I just---” A frustrated huff. “Well, what _happened?_ You said you were gonna tell me stuff last night, so what went down?”  


Zoro sighed, lifting his hand to the side of her head for a gentle ruffle.  


“It’s shit you don’t need to worry about--- _really,”_ he insisted when she shot him a glare. “The cook’s….”  


He hesitated, just for a moment, but ultimately decided the cook wouldn’t be against her knowing. Sanji didn’t think it was fair to keep _anything_ from her, and Zoro had to agree, despite the fact that he still was.  


“His brothers are in Impel Down,” he explained truthfully. “They were tryin’ to get one of the people they worked with arrested, with the cook’s help. But it didn’t work. She set them up and someone else got arrested instead. We’re pissed about it, but kinda nothin’ we can do.”  


Tana furrowed her brow, but, thankfully, it didn’t seem like she was going to pry further.  


“Oh…” she said, as if she were expecting something different, and he breathed a subtle sigh of relief for that reaction. He hadn’t wanted to name names.  


Her expression changed a little then, from troubled to curious, maybe a little shy about her next question.  


“What happened after?” she asked. “Oliver’s mom said you guys.....went to the dojo?”  


He quirked a brow down at her, something weird stirring within him at the soft, almost hopeful, tone of her voice. He didn’t know _what_ she was hopeful about, but it made his head go a little fuzzy when his thoughts returned to the blond, how it had felt to spar with him.  


“We went to the dojo,” he repeated with a shrug, suddenly adopting the demeanor of an embarrassed teenager. “Nothin’ to say about it.”  


_“Nothing?”_ Tana grilled. “Did you spar or something?”  


He looked at his daughter a little guiltily, knowing he had yet to spar with her properly. Meanwhile, he’d gone and picked up a bokken for the first time with Sanji. Kicked his ass even.  


“Maybe…” he mumbled, looking away in preparation for being scolded by his own child.  


As expected, her jaw dropped. And then she whacked him. Hard.  


_“Dad!_ With a bokken and everything?”  


He shied away from her hit, rubbing his arm as if terribly wounded.  


“Maybe….” he mumbled again, and this earned him yet more hits to his arm, multiple this time.  


_“Daaaad!_ You wouldn’t even touch one with me!” she whined, and the slapping was enough to make him chuckle. Even if she was mad at him, it was for something he felt _good_ about doing.  


He sighed, then caught her hand, caught both when she reached the other up to hit him with that.  


The two stopped at the street corner when the light changed, so he took the opportunity to face her, press hands to her shoulders. He was serious about what he said next, after all.  


“I’ll do it, okay? We can spar too,” he said, smirking when she pouted up at him.  


He _sounded_ serious, but she wasn’t sure if she could believe him. Though if he was telling the truth about sparring with Sanji, then….  


“Do you promise?” she asked, all but demanding he do so with a fierce gaze.  


He lifted hands, brought them to her cheeks, cupping them tenderly for a second until he had her full attention.  


Then he squeezed her cheeks together until she screeched and flailed out of his grasp.  


“I promise,” he said, just as the light turned, and he strode forward towards the crosswalk confidently, grinning back over his shoulder.  


She stared for a second, watching him go, in some state of disbelief.  


But then she hurried after him, grabbed his arm and yanked him in the opposite direction.  


“That’s the wrong way, Dad,” she grumbled, dragging him off to where they were supposed to be going.  


She seemed grumpy, but the pleased little smirk on her face said otherwise.  


* * *

No regrets.  


Zoro had told him not to regret anything he did, and while it was dumb, Sanji had to believe he was making the right decision now that he was standing outside Caramel, hands in his pockets and his heart in his throat. There was no turning back now.  


He felt a small taste, he thought, of what Zoro must have felt coming back to the dojo for the first time. This place held many memories for him.  


He remembered standing right next to Pudding outside the café when she cut the ribbon on opening day. She had looked stunning in a frilly pink dress, and despite his disapproval over how she’d gotten the money, he had still felt a surge of pride for her. Her dream had, ultimately, come true, and he’d found himself entirely caught up in the moment.  


The quaint white brick facade hadn’t changed, nor the brown window shutters or the roofing Pudding had chosen specifically to look like bars of chocolate. And she’d kept the same little bell on the door when he opened it and stepped inside, the soft sound of piano music flowing through the calm interior.  


It wasn’t overly busy, though several tables were occupied, mostly by pairs of women chatting and a few single people with laptops, settled in to enjoy the free Wifi with steaming mugs.  


Behind the counter, beyond the glass cases holding various chocolates and pastries, and beneath the large chalkboards that detailed the menu items in neat scrawling cursive, there were two baristas, one of whom was the very person he was looking for.  


Pudding herself turned around upon hearing the door open, a sweet smile on her face to greet her new customer.  


But when she saw who it was, her eyes widened slightly and lips parted.  


“Sanji,” she breathed, averting her gaze and looking a little bashful when he sidestepped around a seated man with a long black ponytail to approach the counter.  


She was looking lovely in a purple floral dress, but the cook was determined not to let it distract him.  


He glanced around, taking in his surroundings before he turned back to her and noted, “The tables are new.”  


Her eyes flicked to them, and she nodded.  


“Ah, y-yes,” she stammered. “I changed them out a few months ago…”  


Sanji nodded too, shoved hands in his pockets, shifted his weight, and though she was watching him again, he didn’t say anything about her message just yet.  


But it seemed she couldn’t handle not knowing, as a mere second later, she asked, “Did you….get my text?”  


He sighed.  


“Yeah,” he replied, hands in his pockets, eyes lifting to the menu above them. “Can I get a mocha cappuccino?”  


She looked a little taken aback by his abrupt change of subject. Her co-worker behind her, another cute young woman, quickly moved to prepare it, but Pudding stopped her.  


“It’s okay, I…..”  


A hopeful gaze landed on the cook.  


“Would you like to talk upstairs?”  


Again, the cook sighed, knowing this sounded like a bad idea, but honestly, what had he expected coming here? Talking in private was probably better anyway…  


“Alright,” he agreed.  


* * *

A few minutes later, Sanji was settled in the sitting room of Pudding’s small apartment on the second floor, on a cushioned antique chair that looked as dainty and feminine as the rest of Pudding’s furnishings. Lace curtains, flower vases adorning tables and countertops, the smell of a scented candle when she lit one in the kitchen. All of it reminded him of how she’d decorated their apartment...  


She’d offered to prepare him the drink he’d ordered, and, needing time to prepare _himself_ for their inevitable conversation, he’d agreed so he could lose himself out the window, watching the sidewalk below.  


In the kitchen, with the sound of the coffee maker to distract her, Pudding’s hand hovered delicately over the tiny bottle of colorless ketamine Mama had given her.  


She hadn’t wanted to involve Sanji. She honestly hadn’t, but when Mama wanted something, she would get it, wouldn’t she.  


Because she, her daughter, was weak. She couldn’t go against her mother’s wishes because that would mean disappointing her, and that was something she didn’t want to do. She’d disappointed Sanji, and she’d lost him. If she disappointed her mother, she didn’t want to know what would happen.  


She’d lied to Sanji, just a little, in her message. Of course Mama had told her about her plan to get rid of Hody. But that didn’t mean Pudding liked it, or felt particularly _good_ about deceiving Sanji. She _was_ truly sorry about that.  


Most of all, she didn’t want Sanji to get hurt. And she didn’t know what Mama had planned for her little “chat” with him, as she’d called it, but she’d also said to trust her.  


So into Sanji’s cappuccino went the ketamine, topped with a frothy heart design just as he used to like it.  


She poured herself a cup as well and brought both drinks over to the sitting room where he waited, as dashing as ever, sitting regally with one long leg crossed over the other and his hair falling perfectly over his face as he gazed out the window. Pudding really wished he didn’t still make her heart flutter.  


Seating herself opposite him, she set the two drinks on the small table between them, scooting his saucer a little closer to him and picking up her own.  


“Thank you….for coming,” she murmured quietly, taking a sip from her drink. “I didn’t expect a reply, let alone a visit…”  


Sanji reached out a hand to grasp his cup, tapping a finger on the handle absently.  


“You really didn’t know,” he said skeptically, cutting right to the chase, eyes lifting slowly from the heart design in his drink to her face, half-hidden behind her cup.  


“I-I didn’t,” Pudding replied easily. “Mama doesn’t tell me much these days….”  


“Really,” Sanji muttered, still tracing the porcelain. “You two were always so close.”  


“We still are! I just think...she doesn’t want to burden me with her business. She knows I have the café….”  


The cook sighed heavily, studying her face, the light flush to her cheeks and the way her gaze flicked nervously to his cup.  


He couldn’t trust her, and as a matter of fact, he didn’t. But he did feel sorry for her. In a way, she reminded him of himself---if he hadn’t been strong enough to resist his family. As much as his younger days had sucked, at least he’d been able to escape. Pudding was stuck, and might forever be stuck. It was sad really.  


“I accept your apology,” he said, her eyes lighting up a tiny bit when he said that.  


_“But…”_ he continued, making sure to emphasize the word so she knew to listen. “I’m done. I can’t help you anymore, Pudding. I can’t. You tell your mother to leave me out of her shit. No more.”  


Pudding’s eyebrows rose slightly, her lips turning down in a little frown. She could probably count on one hand the number of times Sanji had cursed in front of her….all of them _after_ they’d broken up.  


She set her cup onto the table slowly.  


“I understand….” she murmured, closing her eyes sadly for a moment. “No more….I never wanted to hurt you again, Sanji.”  


“As long as you understand,” Sanji said, finally picking up his drink, and taking a long, soothing sip.  


She watched him do so, a faraway look in her eyes.  


“How is it? Any critique?” she asked quietly.  


He sighed. But a tiny smile tugged at his lips before he took another sip.  


“It’s perfect,” he complimented after his second try, and he was telling the truth. Regardless of what Pudding or her mother had done to him, that didn’t change her gifts in the kitchen, and he certainly was not one to disregard anyone’s skills.  


Pudding smiled genuinely, toying with the ends of her hair.  


“I’m happy you think so,” she said calmly as Sanji’s brow furrowed and he blinked a few times, almost in confusion. “I’ve actually been thinking of adding a few new menu items. Maybe I could....get your opinion?”  


He let out a shaky breath, though he tried to keep it subtle, and he slowly set his drink down on the table.  


“What kind of...items?” he asked, with some difficulty, no longer looking at her but staring hard at the table between them, breaths starting to come a little harsher.  


“Well, I had a few ideas for different cheesecakes,” she mused, tapping a finger to her lips in thought. Sanji had hunched over a little, bracing a hand on a knee. “And some new drinks for the holiday season.”  


“Cheese….cake….” Sanji stuttered, though his face had paled entirely, and, in a moment of clarity, he seemed to realize something. “Pudding….did….you…..?”  


But he never finished his question. Instead, he let out a few shuddery breaths and started to fall headfirst towards the table.  


Pudding moved swiftly, catching him, the man slumping into her shoulder limply, unconscious.  


She sighed, slowly kneeling on the floor and holding him there for a second so he didn’t fall from his chair.  


Her fingers slipped, of their own accord, through his hair, as they used to, stroking gently for a minute. She tilted her head, nuzzling her nose into blond strands and closing her eyes.  


His soft breaths puffed slowly against her collar.  


“I really am sorry, Sanji…” she breathed, eager to pretend this moment wasn’t what it was, that she could enjoy having the cook close again without any pretense.  


A few moments more, then she slipped a hand into the pocket of her dress, pulling out her phone.  


Some quick taps with her thumb and she brought the phone to her ear, still holding onto Sanji with her other arm.  


A minute passed. There was a click and a grunt on the other end.  


“Aladine, you can come upstairs now. He’s out,” she said.  


Another grunt in her ear, then she hung up, slipping the phone back into her pocket again.  


Arms she wrapped around Sanji once more, holding onto him tightly, as if her embrace alone would make everything right.  


But it wouldn’t. Not at all.


	12. Truth

**__**

**_Four days later…_ **

****

* * *

****

Fingers worked quickly and fluidly, twisting the silk woven bands of ito around the handle of the bokken in his lap, expertly wrapping the tsuka in a neat criss-crossing pattern. 

It used to take Zoro for fucking ever to do this. When he was really young, it would take him a full half hour until he was done, and the finished product would be sloppy at best. He and Kuina would sometimes race to see who could finish fastest, and though she’d usually beat him, now he could do the job in five minutes, tops, and have it look immaculate.  


The process was somewhat soothing, another practiced form of muscle memory that he could lose himself in after a long day, sitting alone on the mats in the dojo and hearing nothing but the calm silence.  


Except today, it wasn’t soothing, and his fingers tugged at the bands with extra vigor and intensity as he went.  


Today marked the fourth day since he’d heard from Sanji, after all. The last he’d seen him had been when they’d sparred on Tuesday, and now it was Saturday, and the blond had just up and disappeared.  


It shouldn’t have been as big a deal as it was. Not all friends talked every single day. He certainly didn’t speak to Robin and Franky nonstop. But Sanji was…..  


Oh, fuck it, the blond was different, and even Franky and Robin knew that by now. Since they’d formed their unlikely friendship---because, _yes,_ he’d deemed it as such, and he’d thought the cook had too---they’d talked every day, even if it was just texting. Sometimes Sanji was slow to reply when he was working, but he always made sure to as soon as he was free, even if it was late at night.  


And Zoro _had_ sent him messages, that was the thing. He’d sent shit with no reply. The messages hadn’t even been _read,_ and while maybe the first day or two he’d tried not to worry too much, _now?_ He absolutely was. And he was maybe even a little _hurt_ as well.  


He didn’t know what the hell had happened, but, in his experience, silence meant nothing good, and with all the shit that had been going down in their lives as of late, he didn’t feel right about the situation at all.  


His mind went to terrible places, and he wasn’t sure which was the most painful to imagine.  


What if Big Mom had done something to him? Or Crocodile? What if he was in trouble?  


Or what if he’d gone back to Pudding….actually _taken her back?_ And the cook was flat-out _ignoring_ his messages….  


Fuck.  


Zoro growled to himself, snipping excess off the band he was working on and making the final tuck to finish it off.  


That bokken he set aside, grabbing up the next in the small line-up he had to re-wrap and starting to unravel more ito from the flat spool.  


His texts to Sanji had gotten angrier, hoping that maybe he could bait the guy into replying, but there was nothing. And the call he’d made earlier that day had gone straight through to voicemail, the cook’s smooth recorded voice almost taunting him. He’d hung up before leaving any message.  


It was to the point that he was ready to charge to the Baratie and demand to see him, regardless of how insane it made him look.  


Because, whether he realized it or not, it was scaring him, not just his fear for Sanji’s wellbeing, but for his own as well.  


If he lost Sanji….if the cook decided to ditch him or---or _anything_ ….what would he do? He’d just started to get his life back on track. He’d….he’d _wanted_ Sanji to be in it, and while it was confusing and stressful to think about just _what_ he wanted Sanji to be for him, it hurt more to lose his support entirely.  


It wasn’t like anything was _wrong_ right now. In fact, things had been pretty good. He’d sparred with his daughter, every day now since he’d promised her, and it was amazing. The smile on her face and the way she put in so much more effort and concentration, almost eating up everything he had to teach her…..it healed him in ways he’d never imagined, dredged up confidence and peace he’d been missing for so long.  


He’d received a date for his licensing test. He could teach again---it was within his sights.  


But he had no one to tell….no one to share it with that would _truly_ understand, as Sanji would. He wanted to see that smug look on Sanji’s face that concealed his pride. He desperately wanted to fight the cook again, to challenge himself and feel invincible again.  


He just wanted to be _close to him,_ because it felt so fucking good and it had for a while now.  


The swordsman finished the second bokken with a huff, and dropped it into his lap before reaching up to rake hands through his hair, hunching shoulders and trying to steady his breathing.  


His phone lay ever silent on the floor close to the door.  


This was how Tana found her dad when she came back into the room, yet more spools of wrapping in her hand, as well as a few of the smaller training bokken under her arm.  


She faltered for a second, unprepared for the sight of her dad essentially crumpled in on himself, looking miserable in a way he hadn’t for the past few weeks.  


She knew why, of course, and it was something that had begun to make her nervous as well.  


Sanji had proven himself to be someone they could both trust. He was someone she held a great amount of respect for now and even cared about, she knew. Sanji understood her. He was patient with her, listened to her. He was honest and kind, and he’d helped bring her dad back from wherever she’d lost him to for so long.  


He wasn’t her mother. But he was what she and her dad had needed. And now, to have him vanish so quickly, with no explanation….it hurt her too, but it was starting to become visible just how much it was hurting her dad.  


Tana bravely strode into the room, Zoro looking up with a huffed breath when he heard her feet padding over.  


“I brought the extra stuff,” she said, voice a little quiet and cautious, unsure of how he’d react.  


But he simply nodded, the frustrated emotion shimmering in his eyes washing away as quickly as it had appeared.  


“Kay. C’mere,” he said softly, patting the mat beside him, and she settled down there as he set his finished bokken aside and picked up another that needed wrapping.  


“Were these really the only colors we have?” she asked, crossing her legs and holding up the three spools she’d grabbed from another storage room, two of which were black, and the other a dark gray.  


He shot her a look, elbowing her.  


“Yes,” he insisted. “We’re not doin’ rainbow or some shit.”  


“Not _rainbow,”_ she mumbled, pulling one of the smaller bokken into her lap. “But camouflage would’ve been cool…”  


_“No,”_ he grumbled, concealing a smirk. Then he unraveled a long strand of ito before cutting it off the spool and handing her the scissors. “Here. We’re gonna need about this much.”  


She cut the same amount from one of her spools and laid out her bokken in front of her with the handle pointed towards her, as he did.  


“Now watch,” he murmured when he was sure she was paying attention. “Settle the handle about in the middle of your strand. Pull it tight and hold it with your thumb here to keep it in place. Twist this here and pull it over to the other side.” He demonstrated, pausing until she caught up to his step. “Then y’just sorta….flip the blade over and do the same thing. Twist it again to start making the diamond shape.”  


He watched her try, eventually abandoning his own bokken so he could jump in and help her if she needed.  


She made it through the first few twists rather well, having had some idea of what to do, but fumbled and lost her grip, the silk band slipping between her fingers and unraveling some of her work.  


Tana let out a frustrated noise, but Zoro scooted closer and lifted her blade, repositioning the wrapping for her to start again.  


“S’okay,” he assured patiently. “This shit’s kinda tricky. Here, take it again.”  


She did, and this time, he walked her through it, his own hands guiding hers until she got the hang of it again and he backed off, though he still hovered close.  


Eventually, a short while later, with his coaxing and occasional gentle correcting, she’d made it to the end of the handle, two long strands of excess band flopping down.  


“Now what?” she asked, and he stretched out to grab the small metal hook lying with the other tools on the mats.  


“Keep holdin’ onto it. I’ll show you this part,” he said.  


Skilled fingers took the handle from hers, and he stuck the hook underneath the final layer of wrapping.  


“We gotta---hook this through and---basically just make a fancy knot,” he said, finagling the loose ends under, over, and through the existing wrapping a few times, using the hook, until he had such a knot. “Then we just---cut off the rest here and tuck these little end bits underneath nice an’ tight.”  


And a minute later, he held out before them the rather well-wrapped handle. Sure, some of the twists were a little uneven, and there were a few places where the wood of the tsuka showed through, but for her first real attempt, it was pretty damn good.  


“Not bad,” he complimented with a smirk, giving a supportive squeeze to her knee and handing the blade over for her to examine herself.  


She picked fingers a bit at some of the imperfections, tried to slide wrapping over the gaps.  


“I guess,” she mumbled with a shrug, sounding unconvinced, her gaze drifting to his perfectly-wrapped ones on the floor nearby.  


He chuckled, seeing nothing but her mother in her right then, her perfectionist nature shining through.  


“Let’s try another,” Zoro said, nudging Tana to urge her to ready another bokken.  


Maybe here, teaching his daughter something that he’d been taught within these very walls….he could push his stress over the cook from his mind.  


Temporarily, at least.  


* * *

Sanji hadn’t wanted to stay away. In fact, that had been the exact opposite of what he’d wanted.  


He hadn’t realized how much it would tear him apart inside to abstain from contact with Zoro, but it _did._ He was ashamed, and scared---terrified really. He wanted to talk to him, wanted to hear the dumb swordsman’s snarky, confident voice tell him not to worry.  


But what he was most terrified of was the thought of Zoro or his daughter getting hurt because of him. And this was something he absolutely could not allow.  


He couldn’t risk seeing him, couldn’t risk talking to him, not after what Big Mom had threatened, and thankfully, the fact that she’d confiscated his phone somewhere along the way made that somewhat easier. Sanji had no idea Zoro had been texting him with growing anxiety, that he’d tried to call him even, a usual “don’t” for the introverted swordsman, or that he was fretting over the cook’s absence just as much as Sanji was fretting over his.  


He only knew how angry Zeff had been with him when he’d missed work for a day, and he hadn’t dared a proper explanation because he feared for the old geezer’s safety as well.  


He only knew that, once again, he’d been neglecting “bro time,” as Ace liked to call it, having missed Facebook messages from both Ace and his little brother. Ace knew about Zoro, but no one knew how close they’d been getting.  


His friendship with Zoro, and the things they’d been through together, still felt private, because it revolved around events in both their lives that neither were quite ready to talk about with just anyone, no matter how trustworthy. And as cheesy as it was, that was _special_ ….and yet, it was now something he absolutely stood to lose.  


It pained him, left a raw feeling in his chest as he stood at his kitchen sink, furiously scrubbing the hell out of a dirty pot, the water too hot against his skin, but he didn’t care.  


What the hell had changed within him so quickly that the thought of having the swordsman ripped from his life scared him nearly as much as losing Pudding initially had…?  


It was ridiculous, or it should have been. Pudding had been his _fiancée._ They’d been in a steady relationship for _years_ when shit had gone down, and he’d known Zoro a grand total of three weeks. And yet, the man held a place of equal, if not more, importance.  


He dreaded it. He dreaded the gala that night, even though, by recipe, it was an event he should have loved. Dapper clothes, a high-class banquet, beautiful women, and dignified conversation. But he was to attend it with a person he now knew was wrong for him.  


And as for what was expected of him afterward? He could see no easy way out of it this time.  


The cook nearly jumped out of his skin when a knock sounded at his back door, startling him even beneath the sound of the running water.  


His heart leaped into his throat, eyes widening as the first thought to cross his mind raised his hopes considerably.  


What if it was Zoro? He didn’t care how fucking pissed the guy would be at him. Hell, they could have it out right there in his living room. Maybe it would endanger Zoro for coming into contact with him, but seeing the idiot again would just---  


Another knock, and he hastily shut off the water, left the half-washed dishes in the sink and quickly dried his hands on a dishrag before hurrying to the door.  


He didn’t look out, and that was why he wore a confident expression on his face when he swung open the door….only to have his heart plummet in an instant.  


Pudding stood before him, hands clasped behind her back and a tiny smile on her face.  


The look he wore, by comparison, must’ve changed to immediate disappointment because she looked away a little nervously, only stealing quick glances at him for the time she stood there.  


“I’m not supposed to pick you up till seven,” he said drily, in clear dismissal. At this point, he’d shut the door in her face if he had to. Maybe even put up a fight if she tried anything.  


“I-I know,” she stammered in reply. “I just---thought you might want this...”  


And then, to his surprise, she held a hand out in front of her, a hand which clasped his lost---or rather, _stolen_ \---smartphone. 

He honestly hadn’t expected her to give the thing back.  


He stared at her for a second, baffled, brows drawing together, almost in distrust.  


“But your mom said that---”  


“I know. She doesn’t know I brought it,” Pudding replied, fingers toying with the ends of her long pigtail, as she often did when she was worried....or pretending particularly well.  


“I-I’ll see you tonight, Sanji,” she added a second later, pushing the device forcibly into his hand when he didn’t move.  


And then she turned on her heel and quickly hurried off across his deck and down the stairs out of sight, as fast as she’d come.  


He blinked after her, holding his phone somewhat numbly.  


But he stepped out quickly after a moment, doing a quick scan to make sure no one else was lurking outside.  


There wasn’t, that he could see, and he shut the door, a paranoid gaze turning back to his own apartment. He was alone, as far as he knew. But the silence was almost more unnerving.  


His eyes turned down to his phone.  


No damage, his slick black case still intact, and the screen pristine. When he tried to power it on, it was dead, of course, but he was almost glad for that. Now, with his heart still in his throat and the taste of disappointment ripe on his tongue, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see how many missed messages he had.  


He also didn’t want to see if he had _none_ either...because that just might be more disheartening…  


Instead, he took it to the kitchen, plugging it into his wall charger and letting it sit there while he cautiously went back to his dishes, pondering why the hell Pudding would go against her mother’s wishes.  


If she’d even been telling the truth to begin with…  


* * *

_The last thing Sanji remembered was the nauseating dizziness that had suddenly overcome him in Pudding’s apartment, the fuzzy realization that she must’ve spiked his damn cappuccino with something---as he’d ironically called it “perfect,” no less. His vision had blackened, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from falling….  
_

_He came to on something soft, lying flat on a cushioned surface that he soon identified as a couch, despite not having opened his eyes yet.  
_

_He must have let out some sort of noise of discomfort, because he heard a soft gasp nearby, and smooth fingers met his cheek, pressed to his chest. Then, a soft utterance of his name.  
_

_“Sanji…?”  
_

_It was a sensation that was all too familiar, waking up to a comforting touch, a sweet voice that used to soothe him. Now, it only served to unsettle him.  
_

_The more his senses returned to him, the more his head began to pound, his whole body feeling heavy and sluggish, as if he had no control over it, along with the niggling need for a cigarette.  
_

_But a few more touches, a few more murmured words that he didn’t care to listen to, and he finally forced eyes open, blinking blearily up at his surroundings.  
_

_A pink ceiling above him, white trim where said ceiling met wall, and a hanging chandelier that seemed to be made of glistening sugar…  
_

_It very well could’ve been, but this was not Pudding’s apartment---his instincts told him that---and when he bolted upright, he was sure of it. For seated across the room at a lavishly decorated table was Big Mom herself, casually snacking on a tiered tower of candy and cakes. Behind her, near the door, was seated a burly man with a long dark ponytail and goatee, looking stoic with arms crossed over his broad chest.  
_

_Pudding was directly beside him, perched on the edge of the couch, a look of concern on her face as she tried to urge him back down against the satin throw pillows, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t care how much his head spun or his body ached. He couldn’t afford to be vulnerable any longer, not knowing what the fuck was going on.  
_

_“What the **fuck** ,” he growled out, and he felt Pudding’s hand, still on his chest, twitch at his furious tone.  
_

_He heard Big Mom cackle across the room, just before Pudding murmured, “Sanji, don’t push yourself. You….I-I’m not sure what happened, but...at my apartment...you fainted suddenly, a-and---”  
_

_“Cut the bullshit!” the cook hissed, knowing he’d never used that vicious of a tone with her before, and probably not with any woman aside from his sister. But he couldn’t much care about that now.  
_

_“Where the **hell** am I? And on top of that, why?! Someone better fucking start answering!”  
_

_Pudding backed away from him, getting to her feet and standing a few paces off, hands clasped in front of her, gaze downcast with a pout on her lips.  
_

_“Oh, relax, boy~” came Big Mom’s grating voice amidst the crunching of cookies being shoved endlessly into her mouth. “You’re at my lovely home! Doesn’t it look familiar? Though I suppose you never did come meet your future mother-in-law properly, did you.”  
_

_“Shut up!” he shouted immediately, swiveling feet onto the ground in case he had to shoot up quickly.  
_

_Breaths panted out of him from both anger and the lingering effects of whatever the hell Pudding had knocked him out with, but he kept his livid glare clear and focused.  
_

_“You’ll never be anything to me!” he continued. “What the fuck do you want?! Haven’t you had enough? ‘Cause I sure fucking have!”  
_

_“I can **never** have enough when it comes to getting what I want!” Big Mom exclaimed, spreading chocolate-covered fingers to the ceiling in a grand gesture. “And right now, you’re lucky. Considering how eager you were to do me in, I should be killing you.”  
_

_“Like you could even do that,” Sanji spit out defiantly, ignoring the way Pudding began to wring hands in his peripheral.  
_

_“I could, but I won’t,” Big Mom replied. “Because that’s just the kind of generous mood I’m in.”  
_

_The large woman sat forward in her chair, thick arms reaching out to take yet more candies from the tray in front of her.  
_

_“I want my daughter to be happy,” she gabbed with her mouth full, jaw wide and gaping to showcase the horrors of chewed food within. “And, seeing as I’m a watchful mother, I noticed that when I was threatening you, trying to use you, well---she just wasn’t happy!”  
_

_Sanji resisted the impulse to mumble something cynical in return, instead flicking eyes to Pudding, who actually looked a little shocked that her mother was bringing this up. Perhaps it had never been outwardly discussed.  
_

_“So after a bit of thinking,” Big Mom continued. “I think it would be in her best interest if you took her to the museum gala this weekend. It’s a wonderful affair, lots of important people, and I think it would be an excellent place for you to propose agai---”  
_

_“Whoa, **what?!** ” he yelped, this time getting to his feet and swallowing back the wave of nausea that threatened to creep up his throat. “Propose?! Who says I’m proposing to her!”  
_

_Panic and confusion flooded him, but so did shame and fear over what Zoro, of all people, would think.  
_

_Zoro had warned him not to do anything he’d regret, and while he didn’t regret accepting Pudding’s apology, she and her mother were sure making it difficult to keep him feeling good about even talking to her again.  
_

_And now? **Propose** to her?  
_

_“Well, **I** say so, of course!” Big Mom crowed with a self-satisfied guffaw. “It’ll be good for all of us! My darling Pudding will be happy, and that means so will I! And you won’t have to worry about me being angry with you anymore~ I wouldn’t hurt a member of my own family!”  
_

_“What makes you think I’ll even listen to you!” the cook shot back, for once not taking care to hold himself back in front of Pudding.  
_

_He was angry, and he **knew** they wouldn’t work as a couple. Maybe he did still care about her. It wasn’t so easy for him to forget **everything** good they’d shared, but that didn’t mean he wanted her anymore. Not to mention, she was doing a great job of making him **not** care, at the moment.  
_

_He didn’t want her. He didn’t want to go back. What he did want, she couldn’t give him. He wanted equal footing and understanding, respect and **strength** , above all else.  
_

_Pudding was no longer the source of all those things, and it felt good to admit to himself.  
_

_“The boy wants incentive?” Big Mom garbled through another handful of cookies. “Very well! Let’s find some friends of his to threaten~ Pudding, dear, if you’d be so kind as to---oh yes, thank you~”  
_

_Sanji watched, in confusion, and then rage, as, from her dress pocket, Pudding produced his phone, the device appearing tiny as she placed it in her mother’s huge palm. He hadn’t even noticed it was missing.  
_

_“Alright, now how do I work this thing? Where are the messages…?”  
_

_The woman scrolled a pudgy thumb through his phone blindly before Pudding stepped over, leaning over her shoulder and directing her through to Sanji’s recent texts.  
_

_The cook stood his ground, clenching fists at his sides and glaring as hard as he could muster as his privacy was effectively violated.  
_

_“Now your sister or that old man you work for are always easy targets, but perhaps there’s someone---oh, here’s a new message~ And he doesn’t seem too happy you’re ignoring him~ I suppose you have been here for a good few hours.”  
_

_Sanji’s heart clenched, knowing exactly who it had to be before she’d even spoken further. Zoro was the only person he texted regularly these days, the only person he kept a conversation going with throughout the day, and the only person he himself got irritated with if the mosshead took too long to respond. It wasn’t like he was doing anything of importance ever.  
_

_And he knew for a fact that the swordsman got snippy with him sometimes when his replies were delayed.  
_

_He felt a surge of appreciation for the idiot’s head of algae. In his phone, Zoro was labeled as “Mosshead,” meaning there was no name for Big Mom to latch onto.  
_

_“Wait a minute….I remember that ugly face!”  
_

_Until he recalled, as soon as the woman had said that, the stupid selfie Zoro had set as his own avatar when the cook hadn’t been paying attention, an infuriatingly smug look on the swordsman’s face as he flipped off the camera.  
_

_“This is the guy who worked for Crocodile! Didn’t he quit? He quit, right?” Big Mom squawked, looking to her daughter as if she would have the answer before she responded herself. “He quit because he was against us! That’s what Crocodile said! Roronoa!”  
_

_“You’re not getting near him,” Sanji muttered, feeling a strange surge of protectiveness for a man who most definitely didn’t need protecting. He justified it with the addition of Tana. He couldn’t let anyone get to her, and if someone hurt her dad, then it would most certainly affect her.  
_

_“Then go on, and do as I suggested~ See, I’m giving you a choice here, isn’t that nice?” Big Mom replied, a grotesquely broad grin on her face, showing off the lipstick smears on her teeth.  
_

_He rolled his eyes, still craving a cigarette, and he shoved hands in his pockets to conceal the twitching in his fingers.  
_

_He was a little worried, but he wasn’t exactly intimidated. He had yet to see evidence of Big Mom actually hurting someone, and besides…  
_

_“Don’t make such bold claims. You try anything, I’m gonna call the cops,” he warned.  
_

_“Not if you’re dead too~”  
_

_Sanji scoffed, feeling even less worried about that. Let her try anything she wanted with him, so long as it kept her away from his friends.  
_

_He looked to Pudding then, disdain and disappointment in his eyes.  
_

_“How can you just stand there and listen to this,” he muttered scathingly, searching her face for any flicker of defiance regarding her mother’s words. “She’s threatening innocent people! Is any of this shit really worth it?”  
_

_Pudding didn’t reply, just kept her face stony, and she looked away, unable to look Sanji in the eye, it seemed.  
_

_She was weaker than he thought, and there was no way. No way he’d care for someone like that. Someone who wouldn’t even stand up in the name of common justice, regardless of who was doing the threatening.  
_

_Maybe it was because he’d never cared for his own family, aside from his mother and his sister. They’d done bad things, and he was more than willing to see them punished for it. He didn’t feel obligated to protect them, or to justify their actions. If they wouldn’t own up to their crimes, then he’d been perfectly fine with seeing that they did.  
_

_But Pudding did nothing. She didn’t even move as her own mother suddenly reached in the lining of her gaudy pink jacket and pulled out a small handgun, pointing it at her daughter.  
_

_Sanji’s heart froze in his chest, eyes widening in similar fashion to Pudding’s, the woman glancing over and paling at the weapon now aimed at her head. Whatever plan they’d concocted, this clearly hadn’t been part of it.  
_

_“It’s definitely worth it if my family is happy,” Big Mom growled, her words in direct contradiction to her actions. “I think it’s obvious what the better choice here is, so unless you’d like to see bits of mossy scalp scattered to the winds….or my sweet Pudding’s, for that matter.”  
_

_Big Mom’s finger cocked the gun, and she stared at Sanji coldly, expectantly.  
_

_The skeptical side of him doubted she’d pull the trigger. Not on her own daughter. Maybe it wasn’t even loaded.  
_

_But he was finding it didn’t matter, his heart fluttering in his chest just at the sight of the weapon, a horrible twisting in his gut especially when he saw the look of fear on Pudding’s face when her eyes flicked to him, silently pleading with him to listen to her mother.  
_

_He’d never seen such a look of sheer terror on Pudding’s face.  
_

_And it was traitorous, so traitorous, but it made him instantly want to protect her. He no longer respected her, but he wanted to protect her, and he knew that even if he tried to explain his reasoning to Zoro, the swordsman would probably never understand it.  
_

_This was why he felt so terrible, so horrible when, jaw clenching painfully, he hissed out, “Fine. I’ll do it.”  
_

_The blond almost didn’t believe his own words, and he still hoped that he could get out of it somehow, but for now, with a gun pointed at Pudding’s head and the very real threat of Big Mom shooting it….  
_

_He was cornered, and thus, had to agree.  
_

_“That’s more like it~” Big Mom praised, pulling the weapon away finally, eliciting a heavy sigh of relief from Pudding, who closed her eyes and brought trembling hands up to twist in the ends of her hair.  
_

_It couldn’t have been real. The gun couldn’t have been loaded. It had to have been a bluff.  
_

_And yet, when Big Mom lifted the weapon to the ceiling and pulled the trigger with a laugh, the deafening blast and the hole it made in the pink plaster were very real.  
_

* * *

Zoro had to force himself to hold back, to not unleash all his pent-up anger about Sanji's lack of communication against his daughter and risk hurting her. Of course he wanted to give his daughter his all, but when bokken clashed with more strength than usual, and he nearly sent Tana flying to the floor, he knew he had to calm down.  


She was tough though. She got right back into position, blowing hair from her eyes just as Kuina used to, and yet with a ferocity that he recognized from himself, a determination to get stronger, to face him head-on.  


Tana lifted her bokken again, using her small size and agility to her advantage when she darted out of his reach, coming in quickly for a shot aimed at his torso.  


He just managed to block it, a mere few inches from making contact, his wrist twisting his weapon around in his grasp to do so.  


Tana followed through on her attack fluidly, sliding her wooden bokken off his and slicing it down smoothly, applying as much force as she could.  


He stood his ground, an immovable rock as always. Her dad was a more difficult opponent than Sanji, at least as far as sparring went. It had only been a few days, and already he was testing her in ways Sanji couldn’t with his fighting style. The cook was a monster in his own right, but her dad allowed her to study, to watch how he moved with his own weapon and make corrections of her own, copy his style and grace.  


It was why she sometimes caught herself slipping up, because he would catch her off-guard, stun her with a move she hadn’t thought to try.  


It was what happened in that moment, when a flick of his wrist somehow rotated his bokken in an arc that found its end directly at her throat, the swordsman pressing the wood to her skin, gently as could be.  


Zoro quirked a brow at her, a triumphant smirk on his face at the look of bewilderment that came over hers.  


“Hit,” he said, twirling his bokken back to his side as she huffed and backed up a step in defeat.  


“Dammit,” she muttered, not having landed a good one for the past hour. She didn’t know what was wrong with her.  


She was exhausted though, by her dad’s seemingly boundless stamina, the sheen of sweat apparent on her forehead, and breaths panting.  


Still, she mumbled, “One more time,” and lifted her bokken once more.  


But Zoro knew when to call it quits, as he stopped her, pushing her weapon down to her side.  


“You’re gonna run yourself into the ground,” he warned, a hand reaching out to brush some hair away from her face. “‘Sides, you gotta get ready to go to Oliver’s.”  


Tana let out a breath, frustrated with her performance and wanting to try more, but she was also, admittedly, excited to head to her friend’s.  


Oliver’s parents had actually agreed to let them stay home alone while they were at the gala. Of course, this was with the conditions that they stay out of the pool and Zoro remain on call should something go wrong, but it was still pretty awesome. Oliver’s dad was going to order pizza for them before he and his wife left, and they could stay up as late as they wanted, at least until Oliver’s parents got home. But that would probably be after midnight.  


“Urgh, fine,” she sighed, backing up a few steps and hastily bowing to finish the set before heading to the closet to replace her bokken. “I’m gonna go change,” she called over her shoulder, and hurried from the room, leaving Zoro alone once more.  


He breathed in deeply, watching the empty doorway for a minute longer before he too brought his weapons back to the closet and slid the door shut after him.  


They’d managed to re-wrap all the bokken between the two of them, and the further along they’d gotten, the better Tana had become. He thought, with a bit more practice, he could trust her to handle that duty on her own soon.  


This left everything taken care of in that room, so he made sure the doors to the garden were closed and locked before flipping out the lights and heading into the hallway as well.  


It was quiet, and dimly lit with the training room lights off, the long hall serene in its silence.  


And yet, it was almost as if something was calling him, causing his eyes to drift to the very end, where that room lay in wait---the room he still had yet to set foot in. The room that still terrified him.  


He’d run from it, avoided it for a while now, and this was why it was so surprising when he found himself standing in front of it, having, at some point, made his way to the door somewhat beyond his consciousness.  


His heart pounded hard, with an anticipation that seemed far too great for simply placing a hand on the door and sliding it open to reveal the dark room inside.  


He didn’t make it farther, just stood there, a feeling of dread mixing within him with the strong desire to go inside and face what he hadn’t in so long.  


She was with him, in that moment. He felt her. It was as if Kuina was standing right inside, smiling and beckoning him in, just as she always did before a challenge….or before a kiss.  


What would happen, if he went in? Would he lose himself? Lost in memory and pain that had been left unconfronted? Would he see her, as he sometimes still did when he swung his sword a certain way? Would he see only her blood on the floor, hear her pained cry as she fell, fumbling futilely with the blade protruding from her chest?  


Or would he see her as she should have been, fierce and fighting, beautiful and strong?  


Either way, his eyes were burning. His throat felt tight, and his heart throbbed painfully with every beat as he stood there for minutes, frozen to the spot, staring into that room that was---  


“Dad…?”  


He didn’t move, the only sign that he’d heard Tana the quick flick of eyes sideways before he let out a shuddering breath, not realizing he’d been holding it.  


He heard his daughter step closer, coming up next to him in the doorway and peering in.  


“What’s wrong…?” she asked, and he shook his head, though he couldn’t make words come out.  


Tana didn’t reply for a long moment.  


But then, he felt her fingers slide around his, and she stepped up into the room, tugging him gently and coaxing him to follow.  


His eyes met hers, dark and shiny with emotion, full of fear and uncertainty, but she gave him another pull again, and he was moving, almost in a trance, into the room with her as she led him over to stand before the small stage, in front of the three swords mounted reverently there.  


He didn’t look behind him. He didn’t look where it had happened, just straight ahead, numbly, at the blades he hadn’t seen or held since that fateful night.  


The silence was oppressive, rather than calm now, and air would only come in hitched breaths as his head swam.  


Tana still held his hand, and in fact, she shifted closer to him, probably for comfort, her other hand tentatively reaching up to hug his arm, followed by her cheek meeting his bicep a second later.  


The two stood there for a long time, neither of them speaking, and while Zoro couldn’t move, couldn’t reach up to hold his daughter back, he didn’t move away, and in fact, her presence was helping. Sanji had helped him so much, but no one understood everything except for Tana.  


She knew Kuina, remembered their life together. Hell, she was a part of Kuina. He still had a piece of her right here, even more so than her sword represented, and that thought alone had his chest shudder and tighten, as it hadn’t in a long time.  


“Is this why….?” Tana asked quietly, still hugging his arm. “Why you didn’t wanna come in here…? Because of Wado…?”  


Her voice was quiet, but calm and steady, and he realized, with powerful clarity, just how strong his daughter was.  


She’d dealt with all of this alone, up until now. He hadn’t been there when he should have been, and yet, she’d been the one to want him back. She hadn’t stopped her life. She’d pressed on with the strength she’d gotten from her mother herself, and was capable of so much more than he’d been able to do.  


He wished his answer was as simple as her question. He wished this room held only artifacts and not the memory of the worst moment of his life imprinted on every surface.  


Tana was strong. She was so strong, and he trusted her. He _had_ to trust her, as he had to trust Kuina’s last words to him. He had to trust that things would be okay if he told her the truth…  


“That’s not…..the only reason….” he breathed shakily, feeling as if his legs would give out and he’d lose his nerve any second. He was practically leaning on his daughter for support now, his gaze fixed firmly ahead on that brilliant white katana.  


Her cheek pulled away from his arm, presumably to look up at him, but he couldn’t look at her just yet, couldn’t muster the courage.  


He felt every breath he took, felt how loathsome he felt _for_ breathing when he’d taken that from Kuina. Tana was strong, but why should she ever forgive him for that….?  


She waited patiently, didn’t press him further, and he closed his eyes.  


This was happening. The moment was here, and he was going to do this. He had to. If he didn’t, he knew it would set him far back.  


He’d never be able to look at Sanji without shame again.  


Slowly, he moved, feeling sick and heavy as he extracted himself from her grasp and brought trembling hands to her shoulders before deciding he shouldn’t touch her. Not until he knew how she’d react.  


She watched him, confusion on her face, but also a mature desire to listen and understand, something that almost pained him, to see how much she was growing up.  


Trust her. _Trust her._ He had to trust her.  


“This….room…” he forced out before he nearly lost his voice entirely. But he swallowed hard and kept going. “This room….is where she died….”  


Tana sucked in a breath, and she turned her head, looking around the room anew, growing uncertainty on her face.  


“But---but---” she stammered, her head whipping back to him. “But she---she fell down the stairs….so how…?”  


He shook his head, unsure what was keeping him upright in that moment.  


“She didn’t….” he stuttered, expecting the look of shock and the narrowing of her eyes.  


“What…?”  


The word shuddered out of her in disbelief, and for the second time in his life, he was in this very room, faced with the prospect of losing everything important to him.  


_“It was me….”_ he said, his voice but a weak whisper. _“I-I did it….we were sparring with real blades and….it’s my fault…. That’s why….why I went to Impel Down.”  
_

The moment that followed was potent, and it was a moment he’d likely never forget as he watched the horror twist at his daughter’s features...only to be quickly swallowed up and drawn inward, almost protectively, keeping emotions she didn’t want to believe or face at bay.  


Tana brought a hand up to rub at her other arm, looking again at the room and stumbling back a step towards the door, almost shying away from the environment entirely.  


And then, the look he’d feared, when she turned her head back to face him, shoulders tense and a wariness in her eyes that hurt him more than any blade could.  


The silence persisted for a long time, enough that he heard her breaths, saw the way her eyes began to glisten in the dark.  


Eventually, she managed a reply, though it was just as shaky.  


“G-Grandpa knew too?” she breathed, and he nodded slowly.  


Her next question was actually unexpected.  


_“Why didn’t you tell me….?”_ she asked.  


She didn’t ask how he could do such a thing, didn’t call him a monster or show fear of him. Instead, her voice held immense hurt over a question he hadn’t expected her to ask.  


He stammered, entirely lost for words now that he’d gotten the important ones out, even though justifying himself should have been just as important.  


_“I-I was scared…”_ he whispered back, and it sounded just as pathetic out loud as it had in his mind.  


She stared at him, shimmering eyes filling with judgment before she shook her head.  


“You should have told me…” she muttered bitterly, and then she abruptly turned on her heel and stormed from the room, picking up speed near the door until she was running out and down the hallway.  


He didn’t know where she was going, but he didn’t follow her, just shut his eyes and brought a hand up to cover them as wetness pricked at his palm.  


In that moment, all he wanted was Kuina. He wanted to feel her arms around him, wanted her fingers in his hair, and her lips in his ear to reassure him.  


But he was alone, and he didn’t want to think that he’d just lost his daughter.  


* * *

Tana fought hard to keep her tears at bay as she ran, through the hall, past the training rooms, back to the women’s changing room where she knew no one would follow her.  


She didn’t even make it inside, just to the small alcove outside the door, before she collapsed to the floor and sobbed, crawling to the corner and curling knees up to her chest in a ball, burying her head and arms there.  


She cried as she hadn’t in a long time, not since the pain of losing her mother was still fresh and not fully understood.  


Her hands shook, breaths hiccuped, and her nose ran beyond her control as she hid her face and was swallowed up by the tears.  


Everything stupid that had been said---everything she’d _thought_ was stupid---everything that dumb bullies had ever told her about why her dad went to prison….all of it came rushing back in cruel, mocking fashion because now it was true. It had always been true. Surely her dad wouldn’t lie to her about something like that…..  


Except he had. For over a year now, she hadn’t known, and even her grandfather had kept it from her.  


And it _hurt._ So much, almost as much as losing her mother had.  


Why would they keep this a secret? Why? And it all made _sense_ now too. Why her dad had been distant, why he’d been afraid, why he and her grandpa would exchange the glances they did….  


She wanted her mom. She wanted her every day, but especially now, all she wanted was her embrace, unaware her father was desperately thinking the exact same thing.  


But her mom wasn’t here, so her hand fumbled somewhat blindly in the pocket of her hoodie for her phone.  


Sanji wasn’t her mother. He never could be, but he was the next best thing, her heart had decided, and it didn’t matter that he hadn’t replied to her dad’s messages in days. She found his number anyway and called it, bringing her phone to her ear and her head to her knees again.  


Teeth clenched, another sob leaving her as the phone rang….and rang….and rang with no answer, and by the time it went through to the cook’s voicemail, she was near hysterical again.  


“S-Sanji,” she croaked into the phone after the beep, not even caring to hide her upset. “I-I---I’m at the dojo and---and---please---c-can you come? I need you---I _really_ need you, please…” She trailed off, her words breaking as her voice cracked.  


_“Please…”_ she squeaked out one last time before she hung up hastily and broke down again, still huddled there in the corner.  


* * *

Sanji stood solemnly in front of his mirror, dressed in one of his best suits, a dark gray pinstripe, straightening his blue tie as if he was preparing for a funeral, taking no joy in how damn good he looked, for once.  


He wouldn’t propose to Pudding. He couldn’t. He was standing firm on that. He just...didn’t know fucking _how_ he was going to get around it without risking anyone’s safety.  


His hope was that Zoro would be there at the gala, by some miracle, even though he knew the man hadn’t been planning on going. His friends, Robin and Franky, would be there though, and while he didn’t know them well, he had a feeling they’d help him if they could. Maybe he couldn’t explain everything to them, but...it was some comfort when he felt like he was walking into some debonair lion’s den.  


Suddenly, from the kitchen, he heard his phone vibrate, and he closed his eyes, hoping it wasn’t Zoro. He didn’t want him to make this any harder than it was, keeping quiet. He still hadn’t understood just why Pudding had returned his phone to him, most likely in a peace offering of sorts, but now it would just be that much more difficult to resist asking for help, resist involving Zoro again when the man had made clear he didn’t want that.  


So he ignored it….until he realized it was an actual call, the vibrating continuing and heightening his senses. He rarely received actual calls, his friends preferring to text first.  


In fact, the only person who _had_ called him as of late was…  


His gut twisted, instinct telling him to worry, and he strode out of his bedroom, through his small living room, into the kitchen where his phone was still plugged into the wall.  


By the time he got there, it had stopped ringing, indicating a new voicemail message…..  


And his heart dropped to see it was indeed from Tana.  


He’d reached for the phone without another thought, quickly punching his way through to his voicemail and jamming the device to his ear.  


Eyes widened when her voice came through, and he had to brace himself against the counter, his head shaking quickly as her tearful message ended with the sound of a sob.  


No. No, Big Mom wouldn’t---she wouldn’t hurt her---she didn’t even _know_ about her, just about Zoro, but then why---  


His heart pounded and he felt sick to his stomach as he hurried to grab his wallet, his keys, practically ripped his phone from the wall, punched out the lights, and raced out the door.  


No. Anything but fucking this. Not because of him. Please, fucking no.  


* * *

Zoro could barely remember making his way outside, sitting on the ground by the dojo’s front entrance in the dark, not even needing the brisk air to send shivers through him because he was already shaking, hands raking through his hair and tears silently tracking down his face.  


Only a few lights illuminated anything, from the windows onto the gravel outside the dojo and from Koshiro’s house some fifty feet away.  


He couldn’t even be angry at his father-in-law for having, technically, kept the truth from Tana first. Maybe he had, but Zoro hadn’t clarified things when he should have. He’d let her continue to believe something false, and now it was his fault she was broken now.  


He’d heard her crying, after all, as he’d walked back through the building. She hadn’t run off entirely. He’d heard her from wherever she’d hidden herself, and he hadn’t gone to her.  


There was no way she’d want his comfort now, was there. They’d been making such progress, but he’d torn it down, with this news, and they were probably back _below_ square one, despite the fact that she’d seemed less angry with the truth itself and more with the fact that she hadn’t been told.  


He didn’t know how to help her, and the one person he thought could had conveniently disappeared from their lives….  


This ripped a hole anew in his chest, just as the sounds of a car rolling up the drive became audible, the flicker of headlights shining through the trees.  


This, and only this, had him look up, the swordsman wiping at eyes with the back of a sleeve, only to be blinded when the car pulled up right beside him.  


He couldn’t make out many features of the car in the dark, but he knew it wasn’t Robin's or Franky’s.…. Koshiro was already home, and classes were long over, so who the hell else would be coming up here?  


The car idled, and the headlights dimmed before a tall figure opened the door and stood, staring down at him.  


“As expected. Figured I’d find you here, swordsman,” muttered the man in a familiar tone, and Zoro quickly scrambled to his feet, staring right back in confusion.  


"What are you doing here…” he hissed in reply, eyes narrowing and all but demanding an answer.  


“Here for you. Get in the car. Got a job for you,” the man replied, jerking his head towards the sedan.  


“Like hell you’re gonna make me do anythi---!”  


“What was that? Not messin’ around here.”  


A gun pulled swiftly from the man’s jacket pocket, pointing directly at him.  


The swordsman’s gaze sharpened, and he was about to snark something reckless about how he wasn’t intimidated…  


Until the man moved to shut the car door, gun still in hand as he took a step towards the building.  


“Your daughter inside? Think she’d want to join us?” Bones asked gruffly.  


Zoro’s vision turned red, and he strode towards the car, right in the path of that gun, without another word.  


* * *

Sanji’s fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel as he slowed and flipped on his turn signal, watching impatiently as another car up ahead pulled out of the narrow park road ahead of him.  


He floored it as soon as they were out of the way, turning down the same road and speeding as fast as he dared down the lane until he pulled up in front of the dojo.  


The lights were on, as were the lights at the house, but there was no one outside, no cars, aside from Tana’s grandfather’s.  


Still, fear and adrenaline pumped through his body as he hastily put the car in ‘Park’ and shut it off, practically sprinting out and through the entrance.  


Inside, he kicked off shoes, not even bothering to stow them correctly, black socks nearly slipping on the smooth floor as he hurried to the intersection where the hallway branched its two separate ways.  


It was quiet, and all the lights were off in the training rooms. And this scared the shit out of him because what if something had _happened?_ What if she was hurt? Or if she’d been kidnapped or some shit?  


And furthermore, where was Zoro? Had she been here alone? Had something happened to him?  


Fuck. Every possible worst case scenario beat through his head with every throb of his heart.  


Until, that is, beneath his own heavy breathing, he somehow heard the sound of a sniffle echoing through the hall.  


His reaction was instantaneous, a short gasp, and then he’d taken off once more down the hallway to the left, running so fast he nearly missed her small form, tucked into the corner just before the women’s changing room.  


But he saw it, the flash of color from her hoodie in the corner of his vision, and he skidded to a halt, turning on a dime to finally fall to his knees in front of her.  


“Tana!” he cried, his voice, limbs, _everything_ shaking as their eyes met, hers wide and puffy from tears, his frantic and searching. “A-Are you okay? What’s---?”  


She stared at him for a long moment, almost in disbelief.  


But then, hands reached for him instantly, and he took them, just before her face screwed up and she collapsed into him, those same hands reaching around to rake in the back of his suit.  


A sob wracked her body, and he brought arms up around her, lowering himself to the floor beside her and holding onto her tight, curling his embrace protectively around her head as she cried into his chest.  


He didn’t know what had happened, but seeing the kid this upset when she was usually so in control---it broke Sanji’s heart, and he held onto her, held her with any hope of mending it.  


* * *

Neither of them knew how long they sat there, only that they had until Tana’s tears slowed, Sanji having to wipe at his own eyes which, at some point, had welled up too as he stared hard at a point on the wall, his nose nuzzled into her hair.  


“Tell me you’re not hurt…” he muttered when she’d quieted enough, afraid of what her answer might be.  


But she shook her head, to his absolute relief, sniffling some more and pulling back to wipe at her nose, though she stayed close, still clinging to him with her other hand. So what if his suit was getting rumpled.  


He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself a bit before he opened them again, reaching up to brush some of her hair from her eyes.  


“What happened? Talk to me,” Sanji breathed, hands migrating to her jaw, cupping her cheek and wiping at tear tracks automatically. “Where’s your dad?”  


“I-I---h-he’s---I don’t---” she hiccuped out, so he lifted her chin gently, forcing her to look at him.  


“It’s okay. Deep breath. Go on,” he urged, demonstrating himself until she followed suit. He hoped he was hiding it, how damn terrified he now was over the fate of her father as well.  


She closed her eyes, sniffed again, but seemed to be calming, at least enough to speak.  


“He’s---here---somewhere,” she answered, wondering if he was still in _that room._ She hadn’t heard any movement down the hall. But then again, she hadn’t really been focused on listening for any. “He---w-we were sparring---he’s been sparring with me, a-and after---we went into the last room. You know, the one where we keep---his and my mom’s swords.”  


Sanji’s mind did a flip at all the information she’d just told him. Zoro had _sparred_ with her? He’d actually done it? And he’d _gone into that room?  
_

Despite everything, he felt a surge of stupid _pride_ for the dumb mosshead. He’d really accomplished all that in the few days since Sanji had last talked to him?  


But he could tell Tana wasn’t done explaining yet, so he tried to stay serious, especially seeing how upset she still was.  


“W-We went in,” she continued shakily. “And I asked him----I asked him why he never went in there before. I-I thought---all this time maybe---he didn’t wanna see Mom’s sword, but---”  


Her voice cracked again, more tears springing to her eyes, and Sanji began to realize.  


Zoro had told her the truth, hadn’t he.  


“H-He said that was the room she died in,” Tana whimpered, desperate eyes fixed on Sanji as if he alone could make all this right. “H-He said that---that he---when they were sparring, he---”  


She couldn’t continue, but she didn’t need to, because Sanji knew the story, and he gathered her up when she fell into him once more.  


_“Tana,”_ he breathed, squeezing her gently and leaning back against the wall so she could curl closer. _“It was an accident….your dad....he would never---”  
_

But it was his tone of voice, the lack of shock he showed, that must’ve clued Tana in to something because she quickly sat up, staring at him with wide eyes.  


“Y-You knew?!” she interjected, and his own eyes widened too, in fear this time. He didn’t want her to feel any more isolated.  


He let out a pained sigh through clenched teeth before he reluctantly nodded. He kept a firm hold on her with both hands. Though, thankfully, it didn’t seem she was looking to pull away.  


Hurt filled her eyes once again, but he was quick to remedy it, still stroking at her face.  


“I knew. But not because he told me,” he answered truthfully. “Back when we first met….you know I was suspicious of him, so….I did a little research online. I couldn’t help it.” He tightened his grip ever so slightly when she looked away, frustration and pain written all over her face.  


“No. Listen to me,” he insisted softly. Slowly, her gaze turned back to him, and only when he was sure he had her attention again did he continue. “I didn’t tell you because it was not my _business_ to. Your _dad_ needed to be the one. I told him that. He knew that. And y’know, when I first met him, I didn’t think he’d be able to do it.”  


Tana didn’t take glassy eyes from him, though lips wibbled as she tried hard to keep yet more tears from falling.  


“Don’t be afraid of him,” Sanji pleaded, knowing he was saying things Zoro would likely be unable to in that moment. “Please don’t. He _loves_ you. Anyone can see that now. He only wanted to protect you. I’m not---trying to make excuses for him, but I just---don’t want this to drive you two apart again. Not after how much better things have become.”  


Tana swallowed, took a few shaky breaths and seemed to fumble for the words to say, a hand coming up to swipe at the wetness around her eyes.  


“I’m not afraid of him…” she replied quietly, honesty in her voice. “I just---want him to talk to me. I want him to trust me….”  


A tiny smile tugged at Sanji’s lips, one that spoke to his relief, and his slight surprise that she was accepting such a difficult truth so easily.  


But then again, she was _Zoro’s_ daughter. It shouldn’t have surprised him.  


“I think him telling you is a sign that he does,” he murmured, squeezing her arms gently as she let out a breath.  


She didn’t smile, but she seemed to acknowledge his words, mull them over in her mind, and that was enough for him, especially when she leaned forward again to flop against his chest, still looking for comfort.  


He sighed, stroking affectionately over her hair, the gesture as calming for him as it was for her.  


“What do you think?” he asked after another few quiet minutes. “Should we go find your dumb dad and talk to him?”  


She gave a tiny snort against him, something that made Sanji smile.  


It was another beat before she asked hopefully, “Will you stay?”  


He chuckled gently, a sudden peace coming over him, even in regards to his own problems.  


“Yeah,” he assured. “Think you guys gotta talk it out alone, but….I need to apologize for not replying to his texts. Kinda...had my ex-fiancée’s mother threatening me and anyone I cared about. I freaked out and---well, crazy story. It all seems stupid now.”  


She chuckled and sat up, looking a lot more content when she looked at him again, even with a hint of mischief.  


“You care about my dad?” she asked, something that he rolled his eyes dramatically over.  


But there was really no use denying it anymore. He and the idiot were legitimately friends now. In fact, if he _really_ felt like admitting it to himself, the shitty swordsman was probably his _best_ friend, and had become so very quickly.  


“Enough that I’m not okay letting anyone kick his ass but _me,”_ he replied, quirking a brow. “And you. You can have a few whacks too.”  


She laughed, a happy sound that was so nice to hear after all the worry leading up to that point.  


“My mom used to say that,” she said, rubbing at her eyes one last time before getting to her feet finally.  


She looked down at him, waiting for him to follow, as he sat there, an odd flush coming to his cheeks following her words.  


“Thanks for coming, Sanji…” she added quietly, forcing him to snap out of it and stand as well, hands smoothing out his suit briefly.  


His face still felt hot, but he brought an arm around her shoulders nonetheless.  


“Don’t mention it,” he said, no longer caring if he was late to pick up Pudding or any of that shit. He had more important things to do here. “Now, come on. Let’s hope he didn’t wander far.”  


* * *

But after searching the entire building, every dark room, even the courtyard and outside, it was clear the mosshead _had_ wandered far, and no amount of calling would draw him out.  


Their next thought was to text him, but when Sanji checked the men’s changing room, it was empty, save for Zoro’s abandoned gym bag. His cell phone was still in the pocket, and Tana noted he hadn’t changed back into his jeans or anything either.  


All his belongings, his apartment keys, his _daughter,_ everything. It was all still there, save for Zoro himself.  


And while the two of them could’ve easily written it off as another lost child incident, the look of concern they shared told otherwise.  


Both of them had a very bad feeling about this.


	13. Search

“That idiot! What the hell did he do!” Sanji growled as he and Tana stared down at Zoro’s abandoned things, nearly punching a wall in frustration. 

He couldn’t have run off, could he? He wouldn’t leave Tana like that, even at a time like this. And he knew how much the swordsman worried about all the shit with Big Mom and Crocodile affecting his daughter. He wouldn’t have just left her alone without another word.  


“And you didn’t hear him leave?” he asked, to which Tana shrugged helplessly, glancing around the room nervously as if her dad would appear out of a corner.  


“I heard...I mean, I thought I heard a car, but it could’ve been yours…” she mumbled, and Sanji let out a sigh in response, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.  


He had to calm himself though, because he didn’t want her to think he was upset with her.  


“I’m sorry,” the cook said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulders. “I’m just---” He didn’t much want to say exactly what he was worried about, but he let out another breath as a thought came to him. “Could he have gone to your grandpa’s?”  


“I don’t know….maybe…” she muttered, looking troubled all over again. Her grandpa wasn’t exactly someone she wanted to see right then.  


Sanji nodded, then jerked his chin to Zoro’s things.  


“Come on. Let’s bring his shit to my car. Then I’ll go ask your grandpa if he’s seen him. Were you two gonna go home after this?” he asked, stuffing some of Zoro’s clothes into his gym bag before he threw it over his shoulder.  


“He was gonna take me to Oliver’s,” Tana said, then grabbed her dad’s phone and stuck it in her pocket, following him from the room and down the hall towards the entrance.  


“Okay,” Sanji replied.  


They hastily put shoes back on, and just before they left the building, Sanji called out, “Last chance, mosshead! If you’re in here, come the fuck out!”  


Nothing though. No reply, so he hissed through clenched teeth and nudged Tana out the door ahead of him.  


He threw Zoro’s bag in the back seat, and opened the passenger door for Tana to get in.  


“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” he said, and locked the car door as soon as she was in. He wasn’t taking any chances, even though the car would be within his sights the whole time.  


Tana watched as Sanji sprinted up to her grandpa’s front door, ringing the bell and waiting under the porch light, stealing a glance back at the car just before it opened and her grandpa stepped out.  


She saw them exchange a few words, during which the cook put on a good show of smiling and looking casual. It was impossible to make out what they were saying, but Sanji hitched a thumb over his shoulder, and she saw her grandpa nod, then turn towards the car and wave.  


She gave a small wave back, her thoughts drifting to what he’d known all along about her mother’s death, and her eyes welled up automatically, though she quickly wiped tears away, determined not to cry anymore. Not right now.  


Her dad was who she wanted to talk to most right then, despite running from him before. She’d needed to calm down, and now she had, with Sanji’s help, and she wanted her dad to know that, while he was stupid, she didn’t _want_ to lose him again.  


Sanji was coming back, her grandpa retreating into the house, his expression hardening as soon as the man was out of sight.  


He gestured for Tana to open her door and he leaned up against it when she did.  


“I didn’t tell him what happened. Just that I’m taking you to Oliver’s,” he explained.  


“And what are _you_ gonna do?” she asked him.  


“Find your dad,” he answered with a tiny smirk. “If my hunch is right---and I hope it’s not---then I think I have an idea of where he’ll be.”  


“Where’s that…?” she asked next.  


“Same place I’m going,” he said. “The museum gala.”  


“Huh?” she replied, shooting him a confused look. “But he’s not going to---”  


“Not by _choice,”_ he amended, quirking a brow and hoping she’d catch his drift.  


She sucked in a breath, narrowing eyes.  


“Do you think he’s in trouble…?”  


“No idea,” he said, and his smirk turned into a grin, excitement admittedly growing within him at the prospect of a good fight. “But just in case he is, I was gonna ask. Mind if I borrow your mom’s sword?”  


* * *

Some twenty minutes later, Sanji pulled up in front of Franky and Robin’s house, Wado stowed in the back seat in a long black latched case beside Zoro’s gym bag.  


“You guys sure you’re okay alone?” Sanji asked, shooting a glance up at the house which, with its giant windows, seemed rather like a target now.  


“Yeah,” Tana answered, gathering her things and getting ready to head out. “Oliver’s dad just installed a flamethrower~”  


Sanji scoffed, looking at her skeptically, but deciding to humor her.  


“And I presume you know how to work it?”  


She shrugged, grinning excitedly.  


“Oliver and Thomas probably do~”  


“Do you realize how crazy you sound?” he asked her drily, but she merely laughed and opened the door to stand on the sidewalk.  


Sanji rolled his eyes and continued, “Listen. Since your dad clearly doesn’t have his phone, you call me if anything goes wrong, got it? And come to think of it, maybe I should give you my friend Ace’s number….in case you burn the house down. He’s a firefighter.”  


“Really?” she asked, perking up. “That’s so cool! I wanna meet him!”  


“Yeah, well, _don’t_ go setting fire to shit just so you can!” the cook protested. “For fuck’s sake, be _safe._ I don’t know what the hell’s going on, and I’m already iffy about leaving you alone during all this, so just---lock the doors and _don’t_ answer unless me, your vagabond father, or your friends’ parents show up, got it?”  


“Okay, okay,” Tana assured, though she did get a little bit more serious. Sanji really did seem worried, after all.  


“You’ll find him, Sanji,” she said, certain of this. “I trust you.”  


As silly as it was, given the circumstances, the cook felt a warm burst of fucking _feelings_ in his chest at that statement. It was good to know someone had faith in him.  


“And you can kick his ass too if you want, when you do,” she added, and he had to laugh.  


“Already planning on it,” he replied. And looking _forward_ to it too.  


They said their goodbyes, and his gaze followed her as she headed to the front door, watching as a strange robotic periscope came out of the wall and seemed to peer down at Tana before retreating again. Was this house for real…?  


Then, a second later, he saw Tana’s two friends come barreling through the hallway to the door, which they opened for her.  


“We got pizza!” he heard Oliver screech, enough to wake the neighborhood, and the cook couldn’t help smacking his hand to his face, imagining the kids stuffing their faces with awful greasy food and guzzling soda. It hurt his chef’s heart…  


Tana turned back and waved, as did her friends, before she entered the house and closed the door behind her, all three of them heading past the Poneglyph, deeper into the house’s interior.  


Sanji sighed, watching the house for another minute before his gaze scanned the dark street, rather brightly lit by street lamps. The houses, despite there being many, were each fairly isolated, separated from each other by large hedges or trees for privacy. As he’d noted the first time he was here, it was definitely a well-off area of the city….only now it just made him nervous.  


He had to believe they’d be alright here though. No one that was after either him or Zoro knew where the kids would be, so that was a plus. And why would anyone else show up here?  


It was with that attempt at comfort in his mind that he finally pulled away from the curb to start the dreaded drive to pick up Pudding.  


It was time he spelled out his intentions with her.  


* * *

Sanji noticed, when Pudding lowered herself into the passenger seat of his car, that she didn’t comment on his suit. She said nothing about how good he looked, as she normally would have, and in fact, this was progress, because he no doubt would have growled at her for her bullshit. Both of them knew how shitty this situation was, by this point.  


He didn’t thank her for returning his phone earlier that day, not when she’d taken it in the first place. He didn’t say anything and neither did she as she closed the car door, buckled her seatbelt, and smoothed out her long blue gown. Her hair was pulled back in a slick bun, bangs framing her face, but instead of a princess, all he saw now was a villain.  


“If you’re expecting me to propose to you, it’s not gonna happen,” was the first thing Sanji muttered. “I want this to be clear. Your mother can threaten what she wants, but I’m not doing it.”  


She sighed, closing her eyes, fingers tensing around her bedazzled clutch.  


“Why did you agree then…?” she asked, turning to look at him after a second.  


“Because she had a gun to your head, why the hell do you think?” he hissed back bluntly. “Pudding, you can’t actually believe that we’re going to work out now that all of this shit has gone down.”  


She didn’t say anything, only seemed to wilt a little in her seat, as if she was actually still _hopeful_ about any of this.  


How could she be? Did she actually think that he’d believe anything she said now? If he thought about it, he didn’t know if what they’d had during the course of their relationship had ever even been _real._ He fucking wished she’d wake up---that she’d realize how foolish, not to mention _dangerous,_ it was for her to continue trusting her mother, supporting her so blindly and accepting everything she did and said.  


She still hadn’t replied, so he spared her a glance, saw that she was staring out the window intently, biting her bottom lip.  
A pang of sympathy he didn’t want to feel shot through him.  


Pudding’s mother had threatened her very life. Pudding had basically gotten a taste of what Sanji had lived with as a kid and for years afterward. He _wished_ he didn’t sympathize….fuck. He was tired of feeling _anything_ for her.  


“We need to go our separate ways,” Sanji eventually said, in lieu of her reply. “It’ll be better for both of us. We can find other people. I think...we can still be happy, y’know?”  


Pudding finally looked over at him, a hint of bitter resignation on her features.  


“You really think someone else can handle all of this? With my family and...and….” She let out a frustrated breath. “It’s---not going to go away. You know how difficult it is to break loyalty with my mother. I still---love her---it’s not that simple. No one would understand---”  


“Someone would,” Sanji answered, his thoughts instantly drifting to the stupid swordsman. “There’s more understanding people in the world than you think.”  


He wished Zoro was seated beside him instead. Pudding’s uncertainty, whether it was real or not, was bringing him down when he should have been going into this with confidence. And it was so much easier to draw on that confidence when the idiot swordsman was with him, like it or not.  


Speaking of…  


“I have a mission tonight. A person to find,” he muttered after a second, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, which he lit up, cracking the window before he started the car and checked over his shoulder to pull away from the curb.  


“And I don’t trust you to help me because I’m pretty sure he’s missing thanks to your mother,” he continued. “So I’m letting you know in advance that I’m probably going to disappear. You’re technically my date so it’s the best courtesy I can give you, letting you know now.”  


He floored it when they reached open road, speeding down the dark street.  


“Who are you looking for?” Pudding asked warily, and he smirked, adrenaline fueling him as the cool wind whipped through his hair.  


He jerked his head towards the back seat.  


“The owner of that sword back there.”  


* * *

The museum gala was one of those fancy events that Sanji never could have dreamed of attending as a child. It was a big deal in the city every year. His father had gone, sure, and even taken his siblings when they were teenagers, but Sanji had always been told they couldn’t secure an extra ticket for him. It was a stupid Cinderella situation, and he’d grown to not care about it.  


It wasn’t merely an event for museum patrons, but one of those rather ridiculous ones that celebrated anyone with the money to spare for the expensive ticket and dress code, and that was annoying as fuck.  


That wasn’t to say it wasn’t a little impressive to see the front of the museum illuminated by spotlights, huge banners hanging down several stories between the large marble columns along the facade, each depicting impressive promotional images for the new Egyptian exhibit.  


Outside, throngs of well-dressed people milled into the building down a long, deep purple carpet, cars pulling up to the entrance and letting out yet more.  


The cook tentatively pulled into the roundabout, following the flow of traffic and searching the crowds for a head of green hair, or a guy in track pants, for that matter. Surely, if Zoro were here, he’d stand out like a sore thumb, but then again, why would he be outside?  


They waited in silence, Sanji noting the equally well-dressed valets waiting to park cars, Pudding looking admittedly intrigued by all the festivities.  


Eventually, they reached the front of the line, the cook rolling the car slowly to a halt, one of the valets automatically opening Pudding’s door to help her out. Another came around to his side of the car, the cook somewhat reluctantly handing over his keys and fishing out some cash to give the man as well.  


“Where are you parking it?” he asked, the man indicating a parking garage down the street and giving him a numbered ticket.  


He had to resist showing his frustration. It was going to be difficult to make a quick getaway from this place…  


But he hurried to open the back door, grabbed the long sword case and slung it over his shoulder before moving around the car to join Pudding at the curb.  


It wasn’t exactly the most conspicuous of things to be carrying with him, a strange rectangular case hanging diagonally over his back, and he realized, with a bit of dread, that they were running security checks at the entrance.  


He cursed under his breath, but there was nothing else to do save for keep moving, work their way up the stairs past countless other suits and gowns, camera flashes and picture-posing.  


Sanji’s only focus was on getting through those doors without losing Wado. Zoro would have his ass if he did.  


Ahead, a line had formed in front of a long counter, slowing their entrance as purses and jackets were searched or dropped off.  


When they reached the counter themselves, a man gestured for Sanji to take off the sword case and hand it over.  


Pudding glanced over at him, smoothly removing the fur-lined jacket she’d been wearing and handing it over to be checked without protest.  


The cook hesitated, pretending to fumble with the strap for a long time, eyes flitting around the sprawling lobby.  


“Sir, if you please,” the man behind the counter insisted, growing impatient with Sanji’s stalling.  


“Workin’ on it,” the cook mumbled, shooting the man a dirty look before searching the room with a little more desperation as a last resort.  


_“Sir…”  
_

“Sanji!”  


Suddenly, a voice calling his name from off in the crowd, and his head whipped around in surprise, vaguely recognizing it. Who did he know that would be _here_ of all places?  


Sure enough, after a minute of scanning, he saw two figures approaching, one effectively clearing a path to him with his broad form.  


“Franky! Robin!” he exclaimed, a broad smile crossing his face at the familiar faces, not to mention their excellent timing.  


He quickly tore away from the counter, ignoring the protests he received from behind, and pushed his way through into the lobby, shooting a glance behind him, only to see if Pudding was following him or not.  


She was, and soon, they both stood opposite Franky and Robin, both of their outfits coordinating stylishly, Franky in a dapper black suit and vest combo, and Robin in a mature shoulderless gown, a short black jacket over top, her arm looped casually around her husband’s.  


“Hey, bro! How you been?” Franky asked, clapping a large hand on his shoulder, a friendly grin on his face as if they’d been friends for years. Sanji was instantly reminded of why he liked these two.  


“I didn’t expect to see you here, Mr. Chef~” Robin mused, her warm smile off-setting her otherwise mysterious look. “Don’t you look handsome~”  


“Thank you. You look stunning as well,” he stammered, feeling flustered despite everything, hearing a compliment from a woman he was actually coming to respect. “I didn’t expect to come either.”  


Robin chuckled behind a hand, Franky wiggling eyebrows teasingly.  


“I see,” she said. “Might I ask why you’re carrying one of Zoro’s swords? It’s rather curious.”  


His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he heard Pudding inhale a little sharply.  


Shit. That had probably clued her in to just who he was looking for. Did that mean she hadn’t known…?  


It was odd, but he couldn’t care much about that anymore. He was already here, and that was that. And he was going to do whatever it took to locate Zoro.  


“Gotta deliver it to him actually,” Sanji explained. “He hasn’t gotten lost in here, has he?”  


Franky and Robin shared a look, only the slightest hint of confusion flickering between them before they looked back to Sanji, who was pleading with his eyes for them to go along with him now.  


“Probably has~” Franky replied smoothly. “Dude’s hopeless.”  


“He certainly is,” Robin agreed, then turned a slightly more empty smile to Pudding. “And may I ask who is accompanying you this evening?”  


Pudding looked surprised she’d been addressed, a soft noise leaving her, but she turned shy eyes to the couple.  


“P-Pudding,” she stammered bashfully, and Sanji wondered how he’d ever found that cute when she was clearly no delicate flower. “Pudding Charlotte. My mother is---”  


A flash of darkness in Robin’s eyes, and her gaze was downright icy behind her cordial upturn of lips.  


“Linlin Charlotte. I’m aware,” Robin cut in before adding. “I’m Robin Nico. The museum president. This is my husband, Franky.”  


The curt introduction was all she supplied, turning back to Sanji almost immediately after.  


“We’d be more than happy to have you join our table tonight, Mr. Chef. I’ll see to it that the seating arrangement is changed~ Until then, would you care for a drink?”  


“Or better yet, wanna help me out with this tie, bro?” Franky added, suddenly messing with his, even though it looked to be perfectly straight. “Think the bathroom’s back this way.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder.  


“Ah, yes, it is rather off-kilter, isn’t it~” Robin noted with a nod. “Miss Charlotte, I can direct you to the banquet hall, if you’d like to have a seat in the meantime.”  


Sanji had to suppress the grateful grin that nearly split his face at the two’s perfectly choreographed diversion, and nodded, striding up beside Franky as Robin gave a pat to her husband’s cheek and released hold of his arm.  


“We’ll be back,” the cook said, not waiting for a reply from Pudding, he and Franky quickly striding off through the crowds across the lobby, the sound of a string quartet getting louder the deeper into the room they went.  


“She gonna be okay?” Sanji muttered once they were out of earshot, feeling bad about leaving Robin alone with Pudding.  


Franky merely laughed.  


“She's good. Real question is, will that _Parfait_ chick be okay~”  


Sanji snickered, not even bothering to correct his choice of dessert.  


* * *

The two of them didn’t go to the restroom. In fact, they found a nice isolated corner clear on the other end of the huge lobby, close to a roped-off hallway leading to the European wing.  


It was there that Franky finally turned to him and asked, “Alright, what’s goin’ on? You said Zoro-bro’s _here?_ And what’s with the girl? Thought all that shit with the Charlotte family was over.”  


“It _was,_ but----” the cook narrowed eyes. “Hang on, how do you know about the Char---?”  


“Zoro-bro,” was Franky’s only explanation, accompanied by a shrug. “Plus the wife knows everything about those guys. And about your brothers. She used to work under Crocodile.”  


Sanji opened his mouth, about to speak before he ultimately shook his head, opting not to. He remembered Zoro saying Robin had gotten him the job with Crocodile in the first place, and now it made a little more sense. He also decided he didn’t care if they knew about his history. It was already determined they were on his side.  


“It’s---well---long story short, Pudding’s my ex. Her mom’s always wanted her to marry into my family,” Sanji explained, not knowing how much Zoro had told him. “Big Mom wanted me to bring Pudding here, propose to her again---basically threatened to hurt Zoro if I didn’t ‘cause she knows we’re friends.”  


He hissed out a breath, feeling another pang of worry shoot through him, for a guy who really didn’t need worrying about.  


“The idiot’s MIA now,” Sanji admitted. “He was with Tana at the dojo, then he just up and disappeared. So I dropped Tana at your place, and came here because I don’t know where the hell else he would be. Big Mom must have him, but Pudding doesn’t seem to know shit about it, for once.”  


Franky reached up to scratch at the back of his head, brows furrowed as he tried to process all of what Sanji had told him.  


“Did he not answer his phone?” Franky asked, to which Sanji shook his head.  


“It was left with all his shit at the dojo. Tana has it now. I brought Wado though, because….well, y’never know.”  


The larger man nodded in understanding.  


“Well, look, man. Anything we can do, we’re in,” Franky assured. “I saw some of the Charlotte goons lurkin’ around already. Dunno if Big Mom’s showed yet, but some of her kids are here, I dunno their names….Peppermint….Chocolate Banana Split---hell if I know. One of the Fishmen too. Didn’t he marry in or somethin’? Robin knows better than me. But it’s worth keepin’ an eye on them. Wouldn’t be surprised if they’re packin’. Someone usually is at these things.”  


Sanji had to snicker at that, running a hand back through his hair, somewhat in disbelief that this conversation was even happening. And that Franky seemed so calm about it.  


“Haven’t you brought your kids to this?”  


Franky chuckled.  


“Yeah. Good excuse to leave early though~ Before people get drunk enough to start shit. People might look pretty, but they’re still the same idiots.”  


“Got that right…” the cook agreed, trailing off and looking back towards the crowd, dwarfed by the high vaulted ceilings that made important-seeming figures into a swarm of ants by comparison.  


Sanji felt out of place, he realized. Maybe he’d always wanted a life like this, but knowing what kinds of people really lurked amongst those “elite”...? It broke the illusion entirely.  


“You really gonna do what Big Mom wants?” Franky asked him, and Sanji turned his head, blinking a bit to bring himself back to the moment.  


“Huh? Oh. Hell no,” he answered. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt ‘cause of me, but….I just can’t do it.” He shot a slightly guilty look up at Franky. “Is that totally irresponsible…?”  


But Franky merely grinned broadly and shook his head, squeezing the cook’s shoulder again.  


“Not at all, bro~” he assured. “Think you’d be an idiot otherwise~”  


Sanji couldn’t help but grin too, feeling a little more relaxed now that he wasn’t the only one willing to risk it all.  


* * *

“So....you’re the museum president?” Pudding asked, walking beside Robin as the older woman led her through the elegant chatting crowds, across the lobby to the banquet hall where the reception would move within the next half hour or so. “I didn’t know you and Sanji were friends...”  


“New friends, yes. And you and your mother have made life very difficult for him,” she answered, her smile contradicting the icy tone of her voice. “If you or anyone in your family has anything to do with Zoro’s disappearance, I’m afraid you will regret it dearly.”  


Robin nodded to a few people that passed by, acknowledging a few acquaintances of hers as they walked, Pudding saying nothing until they were past. Whether she was surprised that Robin knew more than she’d initially let on, she didn’t say, but her expression hardened.  


With Sanji, it was easy to lose herself. It was easy to fall under his spell, especially now, after her mother had shockingly pointed a gun at her head, in a move she’d _never_ pulled before. She wanted reassurance now, from _someone,_ and it was especially easy to want that in Sanji’s presence, the man who, for so long, had been her stability.  


But she didn’t know what to think now, who to turn to. She’d only ever been completely loyal to her mother, and had held a special place in her mother’s heart for it, or so she thought. But now she was beginning to fear that, despite her loyalty, she wasn’t as valuable to her as she’d thought.  


It hurt, and the past few days had been confusing for her as she struggled to work out just who she could rely on, if anyone.  


Still, without Sanji, she was forced to stand up for herself, and in the face of a potential enemy, then this was something she would absolutely do.  


“I know nothing of this _Zoro’s_ whereabouts. I can assure you of that,” she replied. “If my mother has any plan for him, then I don’t know about it.”  


“Am I to believe you’re telling the truth?” Robin asked skeptically.  


“Even if I _did_ know anything, I wouldn’t tell you,” Pudding replied, a frown on her face. “The only reason Mama set her sights on that idiot was because she knows he’s friends with Sanji. And he’s free of Crocodile now, so he’s unpredictable. If she decides she wants him dead, then he’s got no chance.”  


Robin made a soft noise, almost of amusement, in complete disagreement to that statement.  


“So I suppose I would pose a potential threat to your mother as well, for the crime of being unpredictable.”  


Pudding looked the other woman up and down coldly.  


“Yes, by that logic, you would,” she agreed, voice lowering. “So I suggest you watch where you tread with Mama. And with me.”  


“How very intimidating. To be threatened by a dessert,” Robin mused as they stepped through a massive open doorway, framed by gold with a pair of equally impressive gilded doors on either side.  


Inside the banquet hall---which was similar to the lobby in its sprawling expanse, lined by milky marble columns---were over twenty large circular tables, all covered with white tablecloths and set with fine dinnerware. Each place setting had a name card indicating the guest to be seated there.  


Already, some tables had begun to fill, including some in front of the rather large stage and podium set up at the far end of the room. A large projector screen had been mounted on the stage for the speakers’ presentations, and stage left featured a few easels, mysteriously covered with black cloths, new additions to the museum’s collection to be unveiled later that night.  


It was here, in this room, that Robin noticed the growing group of people by one of the front tables, at which was seated Big Mom herself, along with some of her family members. Robin recognized a few---Katakuri, Cracker, and Praline, with her husband, Aladine of the Fishmen, along with a few desperate acquaintances clearly trying to strike up a conversation with the Charlotte head for whatever reason.  


There was, however, no sign of one person in particular, one Robin was sure she should have spotted by now, judging by how often the cigar-smoking tycoon liked to pretend he was still in charge of everything at the museum.  


“It would seem there are enough familiar faces for me to leave you here….” Robin said, already turning back towards the door. “I have other matters I must attend to.”  


Then, with a nod of her head, she strode from the room with the purpose of finding Sanji and her husband once more. And after that, locating Crocodile. Because seeing Big Mom there, looking entirely preoccupied with herself and only herself….it left her wondering if Pudding really had been telling the truth.  


But, for the moment, Sanji and Pudding were separated, and regardless of the woman’s intentions or knowledge of her mother’s, that had been Robin’s goal as soon as she’d seen the two of them together.  


As far as she was concerned, the cook was already taken, and Pudding had no business butting in.  


* * *

Franky had, of course, taken precautions to make sure the children were perfectly safe staying home alone for extended hours on a Saturday night in a city where crime was certainly not unheard of. However, that wasn’t to say they were necessarily safe from the damage they could do to themselves, with such weapons as excess junk food, caffeine, and sugar.  


As the night wore on, to say it had been a fair distraction from the truth that had just been dropped on Tana earlier would be an understatement.  


But as with all highs, they also had their crashes, and despite the boys still having enough energy to vigorously play Mario Kart like their lives depended on it, Tana found her thoughts drawn back to that room at the dojo, to her dad’s broken face as he had told her something she never thought could actually be real.  


It hurt, immensely, to imagine how it had even happened. She’d hardly been able to think about her mother’s actual death, _period,_ not having been there herself, but now, to try and comprehend her father slipping up somehow and---  


She stopped herself, curling up on the couch more and burying hands in her sweatshirt sleeves, forcing herself to focus on the long string of banana peels Oliver shot off the back of his car, causing his brother to drive right into it with a frustrated whine.  


She envied them, for a lot of things, but especially now, she envied them, for not having to worry about this shit. For being able to play a dumb video game without a care in the world---for not fearing for their dad’s whereabouts....whether he’d ever talk to them again.  


He’d told her the truth---and yet, he’d admitted to being scared, and that was something her dad _never_ did. And it was something that scared _her_ because she didn’t know how to take that, couldn’t predict if he’d come out of it the same dad that had been slowly coming back to her during the past few weeks.  


She didn’t _want_ things to be bad again. She didn’t _want_ him to be afraid to tell her things....to cut their communication again.  


It scared her more than imagining how her mother had actually died…  


“Hey, Tana. You okay?”  


Oliver’s voice, and she blinked a few times, finally glancing over to notice both boys staring at her, the screen showing a replay of the end of the race which she’d apparently not paid attention to.  


“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Tana replied, in an attempt to shrug off that there _was_ anything bothering her.  


But her friends were too perceptive for that, the brothers sharing a glance before Oliver stated, “You don’t _look_ okay.”  


Tana resisted the urge to pout or roll her eyes, though it was a little too late for that when she let out a small huff and looked away. She could tell them what had happened, but part of her didn’t want to until she’d talked to her dad again.  


And with that thought, the worry over where he’d even gone to crashed right back…  


“It’s nothing,” she answered, unsure of how her friends would even take the news if she told them the truth.  


Oliver especially had always helped to reassure her that whatever people had told her about her mother’s death, it wasn’t true---that there was no way it could be. And she knew he and Thomas didn’t exactly like her dad, thanks to how he’d acted for the past year, aloof and unresponsive. Surely the truth wouldn’t sit well with them.  


“Did you and your dad fight again?”  


It was Thomas this time, his question specific enough that it sent another pang of concern through her chest.  


She sighed.  


“No,” she admitted, and it was true. She was mad at her dad for not telling her the truth---still hurt and confused---but she actually _wanted_ to talk to him about it now that she’d calmed down and talked to Sanji, a stark contrast to how things might have gone just a few weeks prior. “We didn’t fight. He’s just...well, I don’t know where he is right now. Sanji dropped me off before he went to look for him.”  


The boys both made small noises of surprise, looked at each other, then slowly set down their game controllers and shifted closer on the couch, clearly eager to hear the story.  


“He’s _missing?”_ Oliver asked, to which Tana let out a frustrated breath, unsure if that was how she should classify this situation or not.  


_“No,_ he just----well, _kind of_ …..Sanji seemed worried...and he didn’t take his phone, so I dunno,” she mumbled, picking a bit at the seams of the couch cushion. “Sanji said….not to answer the door unless him, my dad, or your parents show up. I don’t know what’s going on, but---”  


“That sounds like he’s _expecting_ someone to show up here,” Thomas noted, saying exactly what Tana had been thinking all along, and when she nodded, he frowned.  


The younger boy scooted to the edge of the cushion, reaching out to the coffee table for the tablet that was connected to the house’s security system, temporarily discarded amongst empty soda cans and the pizza box.  


“We should make sure the security’s working okay,” he said, a hint of worry in his voice as he tapped through the screen to the computer settings.  


Oliver watched his brother for a second, then glanced back over at his friend, who still looked apprehensive.  


He got the feeling there was more she wasn’t telling them, but he decided not to press. Sometimes, with Tana, it was better to let her express herself on her own time. Even if he wanted to know what was up, she would talk to him when she was ready, so he thought about something that might make her feel better.  


“Want the last piece of pizza?” he asked, gesturing to the final cheesy slice that had been tempting each of them, even though he’d won it fair and square in a heated battle of rock-paper-scissors, best two out of three.  


Tana looked at the pizza first, then at her friend with a hint of gratefulness in her eye, because she was pretty sure she knew what he was doing. He really didn’t need to do that…  


But…  


“If you’re offering, hell yeah,” she admitted, and finally grinned, reaching out to grab it and take a huge bite before Oliver could change his mind.  


“Okay, okay, don’t be evil about it!” he protested, jealousy in his eyes that couldn’t be helped. Pizza was practically as valuable as cash.  


“Hey, you offered!”  


“Only because you were lookin’ super depressed! And my dad always says pizza and cola are the only cures for that!” Oliver paused then, a slight frown coming to his face. “But…..well, I guess Mom says that too much of it will cause you to die an early death caused by high cholesterol and---”  


“Guys!”  


Thomas’ voice interrupted the two, the boy pushing up his glasses as he quickly turned to face them, showing them the tablet screen, which displayed what looked like a surveillance video of the front door and walkway.  


The walkway was empty….but there was a dark car that had pulled up to the curb in front of the gate, three figures getting out and retrieving another from the back seat.  


It was dark where they stood, and the video had no sound, so the kids couldn’t make out much of what was happening, but it was obvious, after a minute, that two of them were headed for the house.  


_“Who are they?”_ Thomas whispered, as if they could hear him from all the way outside, eyes shifting between Tana and his brother a little fearfully.  


But the closer they got to the house, the clearer they became, and while Tana didn’t recognize the one man, she definitely knew the other.  


“That’s my dad!” she exclaimed, more excitement and relief in her voice than she’d intended.  


And sure enough, the two boys recognized him a second later, a little bit of the tension leaving them as well.  


“What’s he doing here?” Oliver wondered. “Is he here to pick you up?”  


“I dunno,” Tana said, already jumping up off the couch. “I’ll go find out.”  


Then she hurried from the room and through the house to answer the door. She didn’t know why her dad had shown up, but he had.  


He was okay, and maybe now they could talk---maybe now they could work things out for _good._  


* * *

Robin hadn’t needed to locate Crocodile. She should have assumed he’d find her as soon as she sensed someone following her, even through the many, many people filtering into the banquet hall.  


It wasn’t long before she found herself swooped gracefully out of the way from the crowds, between two large columns, the scent of pungent hair gel and cigar smoke overwhelming her as soon as her former boss appeared in front of her.  


“Robin Nico,” his deep voice rumbled, and Robin straightened, meeting his eye directly, using her height to her advantage. She was tall to begin with, and with her heels? She nearly matched his height.  


“Mr. Crocodile,” she answered smoothly. “To what do I owe the pleasure.”  


It was less a question and more a curt formality, one that told she wasn’t experiencing the least bit of pleasure from seeing his face.  


“I look forward to your speech tonight,” he replied smoothly, and she couldn’t help but note the smug tone in his voice, as if he’d accomplished something great. If the man was capable of greatness, this would be news to her. “I’m sure it will be...enlightening, as always…”  


“Yes,” she answered coldly, crossing arms over her chest. “Though I have a hard time imagining all members of the audience will feel the same. I couldn’t help but notice the rather large showing from the Charlotte family this year.”  


Crocodile watched a few people pass, almost not paying attention to her response before he noted, in a seemingly offhanded comment, “They always did have an interest in diverse cultures.”  


“How encouraging to see them evolving,” Robin replied, sparing a glance over Crocodile’s broad shoulder, bulked up significantly by his huge fur coat that was far too obnoxious for the occasion.  


“I don’t see Mr. 1 with you tonight,” she noted, referring to the ridiculous code names Crocodile often used for his staff. “Newly single, are we?”  


She noticed his brow twitch, but the scowl she expected didn’t come. In fact, he very nearly grinned, that smug expression returning tenfold.  


“I’m afraid he’s occupied with other business tonight,” was all he said, though the glint in his eyes hinted to the fact that this ‘business’ was far more exciting than he let on. “How are your boys? You haven’t brought them this year?”  


“The prospect of a late night with pizza and video games appealed to them more this year,” Robin replied, already finding it strange that he would ask when he _never_ had in the past.  


And in fact, even more strangely, Crocodile seemed to file this information away in his mind with a nod and a short quirk of a brow.  


“How interesting,” he said, then moved past her to rejoin the crowds. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for my speech as well. Enjoy your evening.”  


Then he was gone, and instead of heading towards the banquet hall like everyone else, she saw him move against stream, pulling his cell phone out from his pocket just before he disappeared from view.  


With a twist in her stomach, Robin quickly strode off to find her husband.  


* * *

She didn’t have to go far before she ran into both Sanji and Franky approaching, the two of them scanning the crowd, probably for Zoro, although Robin now feared he wasn’t here after all.  


Franky saw her first, his expression lifting and his hand reaching out to catch her arm gently when she reached them.  


Instantly, he noticed the grave look on her face, and while his wife wasn’t one to show fear or worry, he could still tell when something was wrong.  


“What’s up?” he asked, lowering his voice, fingers lacing with hers when her hand reached out to clasp his.  


“I just spoke to Crocodile,” she murmured, stepping closer to her husband. Sanji turned as well, to listen more closely. “I’m not so sure the Charlotte family are who we need to be wary of tonight.”  


She recounted their brief conversation, how odd it had been, and Franky seemed to come to the same conclusion she had, a few seconds later.  


“You think he’s got Zoro-bro?” he asked, the cook’s gaze instantly sharpening beside him.  


“I can’t be certain,” she admitted. “But I’m also worried about the boys now as well.”  


Sanji’s heart clenched painfully. If Robin was worried about her kids….well, Tana was with them now too.  


But the cook shook his head, determined not to jump to terrible conclusions in his mind because he still didn’t understand.  


“What would he want with them though?” he asked. “Or Zoro? Zoro quit his job, but it’s not like he ever did anything to get on Croc’s bad side. And your kids sure as hell haven’t.”  


“No, but I have. And I currently possess something he’s coveted for many years,” Robin noted, Franky’s eyes darkening too, knowing exactly what she meant.  


“We should go,” Franky insisted, already pulling her towards the door. “We should make sure they’re okay.”  


Robin looked torn though, and in fact, her eyes fell to Sanji, to that sword still strapped to his back.  


“What’s wrong?” Franky was asking, as she and the blond seemed to share an unspoken understanding before anyone had said another word.  


“You should stay,” Sanji cut in, turning to the taller man. “Both of you. If Croc’s really up to something, and he sees you’re missing, then he might do something rash.”  


“What?” Franky cried. “But, bro, if our kids are in trouble, then---!”  


“I’ll go,” the cook said without hesitation. “He won’t be expecting me, and if Big Mom notices I’m gone, so be it. I’m not afraid of her. If Zoro’s with Crocodile’s guys or whatever, then there’s no way he’ll let anything happen to the kids. And if we’re both there, we can take whoever we need to.”  


Robin nodded, seeming satisfied with this plan, and she reached out to touch Sanji’s arm gratefully.  


“I trust you. Both you and Zoro,” she said, fingers giving a gentle squeeze.  


The cook patted those fingers in reassurance.  


It was the second time that night someone had told him that, and it only made Sanji all the more determined to make sure everything was alright.  


Franky beside him sighed anxiously, but eventually nodded too, and lifted a hand to plop it onto the cook’s shoulder.  


“Yeah. Here. We’ll give you our numbers. Let us know what’s going down,” he said, taking out his cell phone.  


The three exchanged numbers, Sanji checking for any new messages while he had his phone out.  


“Well, nothing from Tana,” he muttered, hoping this spelled good news, that nothing bad had happened and they were all just being paranoid, but he knew they had no business not acting because of that. “I’ll give her a call on the way. If Pudding tries to pull anything because I’m gone---”  


“We’ll inform her you’re off doing more important things,” Robin finished with a small smile.  


“More like dumping her,” Franky added, snickering, to which Sanji sighed a little regretfully.  


He didn’t regret leaving her to pursue this, but...well, he did worry for her safety when it came to her mother’s reaction now.  


It was no use worrying about that though. If anything happened to Tana and her friends, or to Zoro, because he hesitated, then he’d never forgive himself.  


There was no time to waste, so with a final goodbye to Robin and Franky, he hurried back through the vast lobby towards the exit, a growing feeling of unease in his gut as he focused on moving as fast as possible without physically mowing people down.  


Franky and Robin watched him go, Robin’s arm slipping around her husband’s waist, and she looked up at him as soon as Sanji was out of sight.  


Franky met her gaze, tried a tiny reassuring smile, and leaned in to kiss her temple.  


“They’ll be alright,” he assured, fingers stroking the back of her neck gently. “I’m tellin’ ya, that flamethrower’s got range to it.”  


Robin gave a quiet chuckle, lifted a hand to play with her husband’s tie before she gave it a playful little tug.  


“What did you say to me last night?” she asked. “That it could ‘roast a motherfucker’?”  


Franky swallowed, feeling his face heat a bit.  


“Holy shit,” he said. “Say ‘motherfucker’ again---that was so super hot.”  


She laughed, kissed his red cheek, then pulled him towards the banquet hall.  


“Come,” she said, shooting a coy look over her shoulder. “We’d best make sure these _motherfuckers_ don’t know we’re on to their plotting~”  


Franky laughed too, following her eagerly, already feeling a bit more confident, despite the many things they now had to worry about. And it all came from but a few mere words from his wife.  


_Fuck,_ he loved that woman.  


* * *

Sanji was near the museum doors when he felt slender fingers suddenly circle his wrist and tug him back.  


The blond knew that touch before he even saw Pudding’s face, and he did his very best to keep himself from roughly shoving her away in his haste and growing panic.  


“Pudding, I _don’t_ have time for this---” he started to say, but her hand moved to his face, brushing his cheek gently.  


Despite his rush, Sanji froze, staring into her eyes which, in that moment, were startlingly kind and genuine, as they used to be.  


“Be careful,” she murmured, and her other hand gave his a squeeze before she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the crowd once more.  


The encounter was over as quickly as it had begun. He stared after her for a few moments, shock keeping him rooted to the spot.  


He didn’t know what she was playing at, hated that even a simple, kind gesture from her now roused immense suspicion within him, especially after everything he’d just talked about with Robin and Franky.  


He stood there, alone once more. Until he forced himself to hurry on his way, slipping out the doors unnoticed and speeding down the stairs to the sidewalk where he took off at a run for the parking garage down the block.  


It took an uncomfortably long amount of time for an attendant to locate his car, during which more than a few curse words were thrown, but once it was found, he tore out of there as quickly as he could without running anyone over.  


He ripped out his phone, nerves making his movements rather shaky, and called Tana, willing her mentally to pick up as he drove furiously down the street.  


All she had to do was pick up, just so he knew she was alright. That was all she needed to do...  


Unbeknownst to him, another museum guest had slipped from the building and swiftly followed after him, getting into a car parked on the street outside the garage, starting it and waiting patiently.  


As soon as Sanji’s car appeared at the gate and pulled out onto the street, Aladine followed, speeding up to match the blond’s frantic pace.  


* * *

Zoro’s only saving grace in all of this was that his daughter was out of harm’s reach. As far as he knew, she was still back at the dojo, and while his heart fucking _ached_ for leaving her there after what he’d confessed, he just wanted her to be safe. And so long as these goons were driving far away from her, that was all he cared about.  


The streets were relatively empty, most likely because much of the traffic was concentrated around the museum tonight, but still Bones seemed impatient and tense, gaze constantly flicking about as if paranoid, hands practically leaving imprints on the steering wheel with how tightly he was gripping it.  


The other two men in the car, Zoro didn’t recognize. They’d stopped to pick them up on some random street corner. They’d exchanged a few quiet words with Bones outside the car, then the pair had thrown what looked to be two tool chests and a folded ladder into the trunk of the car before getting in themselves.  


Zoro had no fucking idea what was going on, and thus, he sat in the back seat in uncomfortable silence as Bones drove them to a location he had yet to disclose.  


He should have known this would happen, that none of this shit would be over as easily as he thought, if Sanji’s experience had been anything to go by.  


Fuck, he didn’t want this. He wanted to be with his daughter. He wanted to talk to her, even if he was terrified, but he didn’t want to _lose_ her, dammit, and now he feared he would, even if he’d had no choice but to leave.  


All he wanted to do was protect her, and yet, every time he did, things got worse.  


The swordsman watched street signs whizz by, noticed the houses getting much nicer in the residential area through which they drove, and his brow furrowed.  


In fact, some of these houses looked quite familiar…  


Until he realized, with a sickening feeling, that they were in Franky and Robin’s neighborhood.  


And his heart nearly stopped in his chest.  


“Oi!” he yelped, leaning forward in his seat to try and meet Bones’ eye in the rearview mirror. “Where the fuck are we going?”  


Bones just scowled, glaring back at him.  


“Honestly, took you long enough to notice,” he grumbled. “We’re picking up a little something for the boss. And if you try and resist, then we’re gonna have problems. Though your part is simple. We only need you to let us into the house.”  


Zoro’s stomach sank even further.  


They fucking wanted something from Robin, didn’t they. What, he didn’t know, but there was no other explanation, and there was no other reason they’d need him.  


Franky and Robin weren’t home. They were at the gala, as far as he knew. And his daughter, thank fuck, was still at the dojo.  


But Oliver and Thomas…  


He had to make sure they didn’t get hurt, and he knew he was willing to do that no matter what. Franky and Robin had done so much for him and Tana. Of course he’d take care of their kids, even if the two boys seemed to be rather wary of him.  


“And after?” Zoro muttered. “You’re an idiot if you think I’m gonna just sit back and let you bastards do whatever.”  


“You’re not doing anything unless you can take me down,” Bones warned, scanning the houses for the correct one. “Something I’m not much worried about. Because, from what I hear, the once-great Zoro Roronoa has been off his game ever since he murdered---”  


_“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”_ Zoro roared, and was about to grab for the bastard’s fucking throat when the man beside him quickly reached out and wrestled him back before he could.  


That didn’t mean Zoro didn’t get a good elbow to the guy’s nose in his struggle, feeling a slight crunch and seeing blood when the idiot frantically pulled away with a pained shout, a hand plastered to his nose.  


In the meantime, Bones had calmly continued driving, slowing eventually and pulling up to the curb outside what Zoro saw, with a sickening feeling, was indeed Robin’s house, the lights on, practically a sitting duck for anyone looking to break in.  


Zoro found himself hoping that Franky’s crazy security system, though he’d never seen it in action, was everything he’d cracked it up to be.  


He couldn’t see the kids inside. And this was good. He didn’t want Bones to know they were there, and he hoped they’d have the common sense to stay hidden once they realized Zoro was accompanied by some suspicious people.  


Bones got out of the car, as did the other man in the passenger’s seat, and the one beside Zoro did as well, still clutching his nose with a scowl on his face.  


Those two moved to the trunk to retrieve whatever the hell they’d thrown back there, and soon Zoro found his own door opened as Bones dragged him out onto the sidewalk.  


“You are not gonna put up a fight because, if you recall...” he said, and pulled aside his jacket to reveal the gun he still had nicely tucked inside. “One wrong move and you’re dead. Your daughter’s dead; your friends are dead. I don’t give a fuck what it takes.”  


Zoro bore teeth, glaring at the man with as much hatred as he could muster.  


Bones was talking tough, but Zoro knew that if he had his swords, the guy would be eating those words. He’d been so scared to use them again, but now he knew, with adrenaline pumping through his veins and a fierce determination to _protect,_ that he would absolutely fight with them. He didn’t care about the consequences. He didn’t even care if he hurt the man.  


He _wanted_ to. And it should have been a frightening realization, but it actually felt good, liberating, like Kuina was somehow right there with him, fueling the fire.  


He had no way of warning anyone---not Franky or Robin, no one. Part of him wanted to call Sanji for back-up. Fuck. If the cook was there, they could fuck shit up together, he knew it.  


But instead, he was walking, as if to his death, beside Bones, to the front door, to let him in, essentially _break in,_ and fuck. Maybe if he did it quietly, Oliver and Thomas wouldn’t know he was there, and they could stay out of sight.  


It was a small hope.  


And as he approached the door, they _didn’t_ appear.  


No, instead, perhaps the worst person that could have did.  


He didn’t know how she’d gotten to Franky and Robin’s house in the time he’d been gone, but somehow, his _daughter_ was hurrying to the front door, throwing it open before he even could.  


“Dad!” she exclaimed, and his face fell entirely, unable to conceal the absolute horror from his expression.  


“Easier than I thought,” he heard Bones say beside him, though his voice was muffled beneath the dull thunder of Zoro’s own pulse in his ears.  


Bones jerked his head over his shoulder for his goons to finally follow. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his gun, pointing it directly at Tana as he strode forward.  


“Step aside, kid. Got some business to take care of,” he growled, shoving Zoro forward into the house as well.  


But the swordsman had moved instantly, as soon as he saw that meaty hand grab the gun, throwing himself out in front of it to shield his daughter.  


_“Don’t you fucking **dare!** ”_ he hissed with rage as Tana gave a little squeak of surprise, stumbling back upon noticing something was very wrong.  


Bones said nothing though, merely glowered at him, gun still raised, the two other men, carrying their tools, already making a beeline for the Poneglyph mounted on the wall.  


“Move and I kill you both,” he said calmly, eyes flicking to them briefly before glancing back to the wall to oversee the job.  


Zoro shook with fury, even as he felt Tana’s fingers slide over his arm, his daughter peering fearfully out from behind him.  


_“Stay there…”_ the swordsman murmured down to her, unsure of anything but keeping her safe. If he got shot, so be it.  


Tana had no idea what was happening either, as the two strange men began to set up the ladder and pull out various drills and tools in preparation for removing the Poneglyph panels.  


But she nodded, heeding her dad’s words, and hoping her friends would do the same, back in the living room.  


She pressed her forehead to his shoulder and lowered her gaze, searching the corridor subtly for anything resembling a sword, anything they could fight back with.  


Her phone suddenly vibrated repeatedly in her pocket, but she had to ignore it, even though she was almost certain she knew who was calling.  


This time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Sanji to come or to stay away...


	14. Awakening

Considering how often Zoro dealt with dangerous weapons without fear, there was something very different about a gun. Swords could be deadly. Of course he knew that. But they were also strong, and beautiful. There was a grace and a history to them that couldn’t be replicated.  


But guns were cold and messy. They were also unforgiving and final. And to see one pointed at his daughter brought him the closest to panic he’d been in a long time.  


Even if he was shielding her now, the thought that she was even close to one was enough to have his pulse pound hard enough to make him light-headed, barely-contained rage trembling through his entire body as he stood there. His eyes watched Bones for the slightest of movement, the tiniest twitch of muscles that indicated he was going to pull that trigger, his battle instincts ready to react instantly should he need to.  


The other two men had set up the ladder, one of them already climbing to the top so he could begin unscrewing the first Poneglyph panel from the wall.  


He couldn’t do anything about it, as these bastards stole from one of his best friends right in front of him, and he felt fucking useless.  


Tana’s hands curled in the back of his jacket, and he was surprised with how gentle her grasp was. She had to be scared, and dammit, she had to be _angry_ with him still, but the way she leaned against him was almost comforting, certainly trusting.  


Fuck, it made him want to just turn around and hold her---to make all of this go away, but he _couldn’t_ right now, and it was the worst fucking feeling.  


There was a faint buzz behind him then, and he vaguely registered that it must have been Tana’s phone when he felt her shift uncomfortably, as if she _wanted_ to pick it up, but knew she couldn’t. Who would be calling her anyway? Was it Oliver or Thomas from inside the house…?  


_“I think it’s Sanji…”_ he heard her whisper faintly behind him, and his heart gave a jolt.  


Sanji? How did she know? And furthermore, he was _okay?_ He and Tana were in _contact?_ Since when?  


It rose far too many questions within him that he couldn’t ask. But for some stupid reason, it also sent a powerful _relief_ coursing through him. Sanji hadn’t abandoned them. Sanji hadn’t forgotten them. Fuck. Something about that restored some of his confidence, made him all the more determined to fight these assholes and _win,_ once and for all.  


He reached a hand back behind him subtly, moving slowly and carefully so as not to trigger Bones, thankful the man’s eyes were fixed on the two dismantling the Poneglyph.  


Tana seemed to notice, however, because a second later, she slipped her hand in his and gave a squeeze.  


Everything _had_ to be okay now, Zoro thought. He wouldn’t accept any other outcome.  


* * *

When the sound of shouting, unfamiliar voices, and then an odd _drilling_ filtered back through the house to Oliver and Thomas, still seated in the living room, they knew something was wrong. Especially when Tana didn’t return.  


The two boys looked at each other, eyes wide, a feeling of dread filling their stomachs. Almost instinctively, the brothers sunk to the floor in front of the couch where they could remain out of view should someone come down the hallway, Thomas flipping furiously through the tablet until he found the correct camera view of the front hall.  


What they saw confused them at first, two guys working to dismantle their mom’s Poneglyph, but what they noticed next made their blood run cold. Tana and Zoro were standing there too, Tana behind her dad and a third stranger with a _gun_ aimed straight at them.  


Thomas gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth a second later, Oliver leaning in closer to whisper in alarm, _“Is that a gun?!”_  


It certainly was, and the realization had Thomas looking to his older brother fearfully.  


_“What do we do?”_ he hissed. _“Call the police?”_  


Oliver was staring at the screen still, watching the scene intently. It almost didn’t feel real, like it couldn’t possibly be happening inside _their_ house. Surely this was a shot from a movie and they weren’t _really_ in danger.  


But the longer they sat there in tense silence, the more he realized that they indeed needed to do something, and perhaps they should try and put their dad’s inventions to good use, as reckless as it was.  


A hardened look of focus came over the boy, who pushed his hair from his face and sat forward, gesturing for Thomas to give him the tablet.  


_“First, we help Tana,”_ Oliver whispered as he tapped out of the camera view and through a few more menus. _“Let’s try out Dad’s flamethrower…”_  


_“What?!”_ Thomas yelped quietly. _“But Oliver, it’s installed in the wall directly over Mom’s Poneglyph! At that close range, the projectile could cause severe injury!”_  


_“Relax,”_ Oliver assured, now with a differently-angled camera view of the hallway up on the screen, a virtual target appearing in the center. He moved the tablet around a bit to shift the target’s location, held it up before him with concentration. _“If I shoot it thirty degrees to the left with fifty percent fuel, I won’t hit anybody. It’ll just scare them, and if I line it up correctly, I could knock the gun from that dude’s hand in one shot.”_  


Thomas let out a breath.  


_“Be careful,”_ he warned. _“The tiniest margin of error could dismember them…and don’t use too much fuel! What if it---”_  


_“I know…”_ Oliver interrupted. _“It’s just so Tana and her dad can get away.”_  


Thomas didn’t look too convinced, but he nodded reluctantly, watching as his brother lined up his shot once more. To anyone else, it might have looked like another of their video games, but it would soon become apparent that it was actually something to be feared.  


Oliver tapped a few buttons, changing a few settings and locking it in as his dad had shown him. Then he gave one last glance to his brother.  


_“Ready?”_ he asked, and Thomas nodded again.  


_“Kay,”_ Oliver whispered. _“Three. Two. One.”_  


He jammed his thumb down hard on the button to fire.  


* * *

Bones’ men had removed but a few screws from the Poneglyph before, suddenly, there was a whirring click and what looked to be a simple panel on the wall began to slide open, at the same time the barrel of some kind of weapon shifted forward.  


It drew all of their attention, Bones and his men, as well as Zoro and Tana, who watched as the strange contraption began to glow, almost---charging up…  


“What the hell?” Bones gritted out, a moment before a broad grin came over Tana’s face as she tugged on her dad’s arm insistently.  


And then, when the glow reached a peak, a stream of fire, like that from a giant blowtorch, came shooting out, the grunt on the ladder lurching in surprise and nearly toppling from his perch as the heat almost singed his face off.  


The man standing below yelped and leaped out of the way, Zoro pushing Tana back as well and shielding her when the powerful surge headed straight towards them.  


Bones dropped his gun in his haste to dodge, and both Tana and Zoro realized this was their chance.  


“It worked!” Tana cried in disbelief, still grinning stupidly despite the danger.  


Except, not a second later, that grin fell right off her face as the flames just barely licked at a tall houseplant, igniting it instantly and sending the blaze traveling to the decorative table beside it where it caught, fiercely engulfing the wall and floor beneath.  


“Oh shit,” she huffed, staring at the quickly spreading fire, and she felt her dad push her away from it, towards the hallway that led to the back of the house.  


“Go!” Zoro shouted over the crackling flames, eyes flicking to Bones and the other two as they recovered from the shock. “Get out of the house!”  


Her dad didn’t waste another second before he lunged, fist drawn back, for one of Bones’ men, connecting with his jaw and sending him flying, crumpling to a heap near the front door.  


Tana’s eyes widened, but she decided to listen to her dad, using the ensuing chaos to her advantage as she sprinted off down the hallway and away from the blaze. She had to warn her friends.  


Zoro, relieved to see his daughter escape, moved for the second guy then, but the man was already rushing for the front door, dropping his tools and running.  


The swordsman had no choice but to let him go because, not a second later, Bones had scrambled for his gun, a furious sneer on his face before he too ran fearlessly past the spreading fire and smoke down the hallway. The hallway down which Tana had just disappeared.  


Zoro snapped, seeing that, and regardless of Bones’ intentions, the swordsman raced after him, followed quickly by the flames dancing their way down the hall after him.  


* * *

When Tana hadn’t picked up her phone, Sanji had panicked entirely, cursing the relatively low amount of traffic that _did_ slow him down on his way to Franky and Robin’s house.  


Teeth ground anxiously on a cigarette he had yet to even light, both hands on the wheel as he recklessly swerved around cars, changing lanes aggressively in a way he never did normally.  


But he feared what he would find. He was absolutely terrified of what he would come across at the house when he arrived.  


He tried to stop himself from picturing the awful scenarios that wanted to play in his head, perhaps even more awful than when he’d rushed to the dojo just earlier that evening. Now it was almost certain something was very, very wrong, and his heart felt like it would beat from his chest with the anxiety.  


Of course, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what he actually found when he screeched the car to a stop across the street from Franky and Robin’s house.  


The lights were on, but the front door was wide open, and just inside the door, he could see a man’s body, slumped on the floor and unmoving.  


This was one thing. But what truly horrified him was the fire---the real fire---that was actually there, actually burning in the front hallway---he wasn’t imagining things!  


He’d fucking talked to Tana about not starting fires, and here he fucking was, gaping at the one that was _actually_ taking over the house.  


Despite his earlier haste, he couldn’t move for a good minute, staring in shock at the scene and wondering if it was all a dream.  


But he snapped himself out of it, shut off his car and wrenched off his seatbelt, spitting his still-unlit cigarette out and grabbing Zoro’s sword case before slamming his car door shut.  


It was probably immensely stupid of him to run straight for the burning house instead of calling the fucking fire department, but with his mind on one track, one track that was focused entirely on getting whoever he needed to out of the house _alive,_ he didn’t even think to do that.  


No, he simply barreled towards the house, vaulting over the fallen body of that man he didn’t recognize and rushing inside without hesitation.  


* * *

Sanji hadn’t called them. The night was wearing on; the museum guests were all settled into their seats for the banquet amidst the dulcet tones of classical music, and Franky and Robin were forced to sit with growing concern the longer they didn’t hear from the cook, or from their kids for that matter.  


At their table sat Cobra Nefertari, coordinator of the Egyptian wing, and his daughter, Vivi, chatting amiably with Vivi’s husband, Kohza, as well as Chaka and Pell, two prolific patrons of the museum. And beside them, two empty seats meant for Sanji, and Pudding, who’d elected to sit with her own family thanks to Sanji’s absence.  


Franky had reached beneath the table to place his hand over Robin’s, squeezing gently and stroking over her smooth skin with his thumb, both of them trying to appear engaged in the conversation when, in reality, their minds were elsewhere.  


Both of them had their phones out on the table, stealing frequent glances, ready to lash out with lightning-fast reflexes to pick up the second either rang.  


But neither did, and it was soon nearing time for Robin, and unfortunately, Crocodile, to make opening remarks before the dinner began.  


When they did hear a phone go off, it wasn’t at their table. In fact, it was at the neighboring one, at which sat Crocodile himself, along with some suspicious-looking acquaintances of his, a rat-faced woman with bushy red hair, and a large blond man beside her.  


It didn’t matter if the ringing wasn’t in the right place, both of them were so on edge that they very nearly reached for their phones anyway.  


But instead, it was Crocodile who took out his phone, jammed it to his ear with a gruff, “Yes?”  


As soon as he’d done that, Robin had eyes and ears on the man, watching as his expression changed from indifference….through shock….until it settled on _rage,_ his ringed hand nearly snapping his phone in two when he growled, _“What the hell do you mean there was a---?! Where’s Bones?!”_  


The man shot to his feet, strode across the room, heading for the door with his phone still pressed to his ear.  


Robin knew she had no choice but to follow. She and Franky locked eyes for a moment, and it was decided.  


“Excuse me for a moment,” she said to the table, standing and slipping her phone smoothly into her pocket with a nod before striding off after him subtly. Hardly anyone was paying attention, too occupied with their own chatter, but she hung back until he’d vanished through a side doorway.  


Only then did she sneak out after him into the lobby, slinking up behind a large column, out of sight, but still well within earshot considering the man was nearly shouting into the phone down the hall.  


“You _ran?!_ You coward!” he was growling angrily. “I told you---I don’t care what it takes! If you don’t get your ass back there and finish the job, then consider the money gone, and your safety threatened!”  


There was a pause, presumably while he listened, rather impatiently, for whoever was on the other end to speak. And then he nearly exploded.  


_“A fire?!”_ he hissed, and though Robin didn’t know about what he spoke, a nervous feeling twisted in her chest.  


Crocodile made another frustrated noise, pinched his nose in a rare show that his aggravation was actually affecting him. He seemed to steel himself---force himself to calm before he responded once more, lowering his voice.  


_“If you don’t kill them all and cover your tracks, I’ll come out there and kill **you** myself.”_  


Another pause, Robin sliding slowly along the column to stay out of sight when she heard his footsteps coming back her way.  


“No amount of pathetic groveling will make me change my mind. I expect things to be _fixed.”_  


A few more grunts, and then Crocodile hung up, footsteps quickening as he made his way back towards the banquet hall, muttering to himself as he went.  


Robin waited, the sound of the music and conversation inside growing in volume briefly when he opened the door before it shut, muffling the noise once more.  


Immediately after, she pulled out her phone, which still had yet to receive any messages.  


She didn’t know just what had been ruined for Crocodile, where his grunts were. And yet, she did not feel right about any of it. Whether it was a mother’s intuition, she had no idea, but slender fingers quickly dialed Oliver, who usually had his phone on him constantly, more so than his younger brother.  


Worry eating at her, she waited anxiously for him to pick up.  


* * *

Tana bolted through the house, an overwhelming heat and smell of smoke beginning to follow her as she burst into the kitchen, dodged chairs and counters on the way to the living room, where her friends still sat. Part of her wondered just how angry Sanji would be when he discovered they’d gone and done exactly what he told them not to...  


Both boys were huddled on the floor in front of the couch, big grins plastered over their faces to match their triumph.  


But their looks quickly fell away as soon as they saw Tana racing into the room.  


“Get up, get up!” she yelped insistently. “We gotta get out of here!”  


Oliver and Thomas scrambled to their feet, though Oliver looked confused.  


“But why, we totally nailed that shot, didn’t you---?”  


He trailed off, face paling when, from the hallway, he noticed the flicker of flames reflecting in the windows, a dark billowing smoke starting to creep its way around the corner….and then a huge man he didn’t recognize came stampeding into the kitchen, a menacing snarl on his face.  


_“That’s why!”_ Tana hissed, pushing her friends towards the back door that led to the pool area outside.  


Panic overtook them, Thomas stumbling for the exit, his brother behind him, the tablet still in hand, and Tana practically shoved them along, only slowing to grab a long fire poker in the stand near the fireplace.  


Something on Bones’ face seemed to register his realization that these were the culprits who’d foiled his plan, and the man picked up speed, toppling a few kitchen chairs in his haste to get to them, already lifting his gun.  


The kids rushed for the door, Thomas reaching it first, nerves causing sweaty hands to slip and fumble with the knob, long enough that Tana turned around, fire poker poised to attack if she needed to.  


But just as they heard the click of a trigger, Zoro came bursting around the corner as well, long strides catching up to Bones and tackling him from behind, redirecting the aim of his gun, which Bones misfired into a nearby wall with a furious roar.  


All three of the children jumped at the loud sound, and despite everything, Tana fearfully looked back at her father, who currently had an arm hooked tightly around Bones’ throat from behind, bodily throwing the man onto the couch and holding him down, all while trying to wrestle the gun from his hand.  


_“Keep going!”_ Zoro called out across the living room, still struggling with the man.  


Thomas was quick to listen, managing to get the door open and rush out onto the patio, though Oliver had taken the slight diversion to begin tapping through the tablet again, eyes shooting up to watch a panel above the fireplace slide open.  


Tana seemed to realize what he was doing, and she whipped around to push her friend towards the door too.  


“Oliver, don’t! You’ll hit my dad!”  


“No, I won’t!” he insisted. “I’m aiming the trajectory for---!”  


_“Oliver!”_ Thomas called him from outside, fearful eyes fixed through to the kitchen where flames had begun to lick at the cabinets, slinking in easily from the hallway.  


_“Tana! Get the hell out!”_  


Her dad’s voice this time, sounding more and more urgent the longer she lingered.  


_“Get off me, bastard!”_  


Bones growled with rage, a surge of strength causing him to finally crack his head back against Zoro’s chin, hard enough that the swordsman loosened his grip on his throat. The opening was enough for him to shoot up, elbowing Zoro in the gut and fixing his grip on the gun, which he raised quickly and without hesitation this time.  


What happened next happened fast.  


The man started to advance, closing the distance between him, Oliver, and Tana, gun aimed. Oliver, in his alarm, pressed the button to shoot the flamethrower.  


Tana shoved him hard out the door after his brother, just as the panel on the wall fired another rocket of burning fuel towards them.  


Bones, directly in its path, ducked away, as did Tana, who dove behind a chair, covering her head and letting out a whimper, especially when she heard a loud crack by the door.  


When the heat and blinding light died down, she spared a glance over her shoulder, just in time to see the door frame burst into flames, along with another plant situated next to it, essentially blocking any exit.  


She scrambled back away from it, only to hear her dad call her name frantically.  


A peek around the chair, just in time to see, through a shower of sparks, Zoro lunge for Bones again furiously, a fist drawn back to punch him hard in the jaw and send him crashing into the ottoman near the couch.  


As soon as he’d done that, the swordsman’s gaze wrenched up to his daughter, trying to see her through the smoke and flames.  


“I’m okay!” she called to him, but had to cough and crawl away quickly when the fire began to lick at the chair she’d hidden behind.  


Some degree of relief crossed Zoro’s face, but it was fleeting as Bones recovered, pushing himself up and whipping around to aim the gun at Zoro this time with a hateful glare.  


But Zoro was ready for him, grabbing the arm holding the gun without fear and wrenching it away from him in a practiced armbar, just as Bones fired the trigger, again shooting a stray bullet off in the opposite direction.  


Tana ducked again, on instinct, and had no choice but to stay where she was, low to the ground with her sweatshirt sleeve over her nose and mouth. The door to outside was blocked by flames, and while she could make a run for the dining room, it connected to the hallway, where she could see, through the doorway, flames working their way into that space as well.  


The only way out to join her friends would be to bust a window or something, and, foolishly, she didn’t want to leave her dad, even though he’d insisted she get herself to safety.  


She could try and fight too, try and help her dad. But that gun admittedly scared her.  


A physical fight she was used to, and though this intruder looked like an intimidating opponent as far as sheer bulk and strength went, it would at least be easier to predict his movements, but with a gun? It was something she’d never faced before---never _should have_ had to face. And it was not something to be underestimated.  


Another particularly loud crack of fist against something, and she stole another glance over the armrest of the chair to see her dad spitting out some blood, trailing fingers over his jaw for a split second before he and Bones clashed again, Zoro now trying to wrestle the gun from his grip entirely.  


She didn’t see how it was going to work though, and more than once, Bones brought that gun dangerously close to her father.  


And it was to the point where she couldn’t take it. She pushed up to her feet, the iron fire poker still in her grip, and she was about to run for the man.  


When suddenly, a clattering sound in the dining room to her right, and she looked to see a figure emerging practically through the flames with a string of curses.  


Sanji was panting and coughing from the smoke, the back of a hand lifting to cover his mouth, but then he looked up and made eye contact with her.  


A relieved grin instantly split his face, and despite the flames that were on her end of the house, he ran towards her, bursting in to find not only Tana, but the mosshead in an all-out brawl with another man. A man who had a very real gun.  


“Are you---okay?” Sanji huffed as soon as he reached Tana’s side, hands flying to her arms.  


As soon as she nodded, he turned.  


_“Zoro!”_ he called, yanking Tana away from flames that started to come closer.  


Instantly, the swordsman froze, fist geared back for another punch, and he looked up, dumb mouth gaping when he laid eyes on none other than the _cook,_ standing there, disheveled and breathing heavily, but there nonetheless.  


_“Cook---”_ he stuttered out in disbelief, but his pause only afforded Bones an opening to sock him again in the cheek, this time sending him toppling over with the force of the punch, nearly flying right back into the flames currently devouring a bookshelf near the TV.  


What the fuck was he doing here? _How_ was he here? How had he known to come?  


Zoro, again, had far too many questions that he knew he couldn’t get answers to yet, but perhaps the most pressing mystery of all was the fucking flutter of warmth and reassurance that started up in his chest upon seeing the blond.  


He didn’t even feel the punch, only that stupid giddiness he hadn’t felt in a _long-ass_ time, that only increased tenfold as soon as the cook bolted forward and landed a _hard_ kick to Bones’ side, the man letting out a roar of pain.  


Another unexpected kick sent his gun flying from his hand off into the burning kitchen somewhere, and then the cook was at Zoro’s side, with a hand outstretched to help him back onto his feet.  


The swordsman stared at it for a long moment, blood trickling down his bottom lip, but he couldn’t even move to wipe it away.  


“W-What are you doing here?” he breathed, slowly lifting a hand to clasp the blond’s and haul himself back up.  


“Long story,” the cook said, a smug grin coming to his features that was rather dazzling in the flickering light. “Brought you a little something though.”  


Then he reached up to pull the sword case off his shoulder and toss it at the mosshead.  


The swordsman caught it, but again, looked entirely dumbfounded, knowing what was inside, but not understanding how the cook had known about anything.  


This was Wado. He _knew_ that, could feel it without even looking inside, and fuck, he hadn’t touched it since that night.  


And yet, as soon as he heard his daughter’s fearful cry of, “Dad?”, heard Bones start to run for her and the smack of that fire poker against skin, he had Wado out in an instant. He could hardly remember pulling the sword from its case, unsheathing it and slicing Bones away from his daughter with the back of the blade, but it happened.  


He stood there between her and Bones’ fallen form, the man struggling to pull himself up from the shattered remains of the entertainment cabinet across the room. Wado was held tightly with both his hands, limbs trembling, not with fear, but adrenaline, a rush of exhilaration that felt _right,_ like he’d returned to something he hadn’t fully realized he’d been missing.  


Tana stumbled back, wide eyes on him, almost in disbelief that her dad had actually used the sword, but the spell didn’t last long.  


Behind her, a terrible crackling sound and a shower of sparks suddenly rained down when flames tore a hole in the ceiling, plaster and a beam toppling out.  


Sanji ran for Tana, grabbing her and pulling her against him quickly, coughing when a billow of smoke came their way.  


And then Zoro had locked eyes with him.  


“Cook!” he called, having to tear his gaze back to Bones when the man started to struggle to his feet stubbornly once more. “Get her out of here! I got this!”  


He sounded certain, and seeing that glint in his eye---the same confident glint Sanji had seen when he and Zoro first sparred---he believed him.  


“Roger!” Sanji replied, and he hurriedly shoved Tana away from the brawl.  


“But---Dad!” Tana cried worriedly, trying to fight Sanji and turn back, even as the smoke drew a coughing fit from her as well.  


“It’s okay!” she heard him yell, and then the sound of an angry growl when Bones lunged for him again, though he blocked the man’s punch easily with his blade.  


“He’s fine!” Sanji assured, even though worry filled his chest, as well as a _strong_ desire to stay and fight with Zoro, despite the very real and increasing danger.  


“There’s no way out!” Tana exclaimed, finally sounding well and truly panicked as the fire completely blocked the only door in the room.  


“It’s just a little fire!” the cook replied, even shooting a grin over his shoulder. “Nothing to be scared of!”  


And with that, he dropped himself to the floor, swinging a leg around in a wide sweep that was powerful enough to cause an actual gust of air that blew back a path through the flames.  


“Come on!” Sanji urged, grabbing her wrist and yanking her along, even as the fire began to close in again.  


But it was enough of an opening for them to burst forth from the burning room onto the cool patio outside the house.  


They kept running, Sanji dragging her along past the outdoor kitchen area that Franky so loved to hold barbecues at, until they stopped near the shallow end of the large swimming pool, illuminated by blue lights beneath the water.  


The orange from the fire behind them reflected on the water’s surface, both of them panting heavily for a moment before Sanji brought hands to Tana’s face, examining her for signs of injury.  


Her face was dirty from smoke and soot, sweaty from the heat, and there was a small amount of blood from what looked like a tiny coin-sized burn near the front of her ear.  


She winced when his finger brushed it, but couldn’t much be bothered because she’d looked frantically back behind them, at the house which seemed to shimmer with the heat and flames dancing within.  


And her dad was still in there.  


“Tana!”  


There were tears in her eyes when she turned to see Oliver and Thomas crouched farther away in the backyard.  


Oliver got to his feet, sprinted over with barely-contained tears as well, though Thomas stayed where he was, watching the scene with wide eyes.  


“A-Are you okay?” he asked, not questioning Sanji’s presence just then, his hand reaching out to grab his friend’s arm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to---I-I swear!”  


Tana shook her head, unable to properly reply, as distracted as she was, an anxious glance still trained on the house.  


“Sanji---m-my dad!” she huffed, looking to the blond for what to do, but he was already nudging her towards her friends, both hands on her shoulders.  


“You three keep going. Get far away from the house,” he urged. “And call the fire department. Can you do that?”  


Tana and Oliver nodded somewhat dazedly, neither looking particularly confident in this.  


The cook sighed and reached up to press a hand to the girl’s cheek reassuringly, managing a small upturn of lips.  


“Don’t worry,” he assured. “I’m gonna go help your dad.”  


Then with one last pat to her cheek, he turned her fully away from the house and gave her a gentle shove before taking off running back across the patio again.  


Tana watched him for a second, but Oliver had started pulling her along, so she had no choice but to follow, Thomas getting to his feet to run with them.  


“Come on! Let’s cut through Mr. Boodle’s yard!” Oliver called, the boy reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone, quickly punching in the three emergency numbers and jamming the device to his ear as he ran.  


A few seconds later, presumably after the call went through, he panted out, “Yeah, hi, um. I’m in Water 7. 2639 Laguna Avenue. My house is kind of on fire…”  


* * *

Sanji stole a glance behind him when he reached the patio, just to make sure the kids were really escaping.  
They were, thankfully, through a row of thick trees into the neighbor’s yard, it looked like, and he let out a breath, already mentally jumping to the next task at hand---helping Zoro as he’d promised.  


There was no time to waste, and while he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to break back into the burning house, he knew he was entirely willing and able to bust down a wall if he had to. Zoro could fight, he knew, but amongst all the smoke and flames? There was only so long a person could last.  


Fuck.  


He wasn’t afraid of fire. He worked in a kitchen, for fuck’s sake. Fire and heat was a part of the job, half the time. But this was something else...  


As soon as the kids were out of sight, disappearing into the darkness, he closed his eyes, let out a breath to prepare himself, then turned around to try and find a way back into the house.  


A fist collided with his jaw unexpectedly, sending him toppling over, landing hard on his shoulder on the hard cobbled patio, hands unable to catch himself in time.  


Head thoroughly rattled, he could only struggle to push himself up for a second, bring a hand to his jaw in disbelief of what had just happened.  


When he finally looked up, a dark, broad figure of a man in a dress shirt was looming above him, long black ponytail and goatee standing out against the white fabric.  


“Strictly business, Vinsmoke,” Aladine said, his voice indifferent as he glowered down at him with a passive expression. “I’m to eliminate you. Hody’s orders.”  


* * *

Robin rang her son’s phone three times, each with growing concern, until finally, she got through. And though her sons were safe, what they told her did nothing to dispel her worry.  


They hadn’t known who had broken in, but the fact that whoever it was had apparently gone for the Poneglyph told Robin her suspicions had been correct. Oliver had called the fire department at least, and the three children had gotten away from the house without injury, but that apparently left Zoro and Sanji, who were still fighting the man she assumed to be Bones.  


_“I’m sorry, Mom! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to---! Well, okay, the first one I meant to shoot, and kind of the second one, but I didn’t think it would---!”_  


Oliver was busy lamenting an apology into her ear as she hurried back towards the banquet hall.  


“None of that matters,” Robin assured, relief still strong. “If you hadn’t, Zoro and Tana could have been hurt initially.”  


_“But---But now Tana’s dad is---”_  


“He wouldn’t appreciate you worrying about him,” she said gently, slipping through the doors to the banquet hall. “Leave the underestimating to his enemies.”  


She hovered near the door, knowing her husband would notice her, and he did, almost immediately, eyes widening when he saw her on the phone. With barely a word to their friends at the table, he pushed up and rushed over to her, joining her in the hallway again a few moments later.  


“Oliver, your father’s here. He’d like to talk to you,” Robin said pointedly when Franky looked to her, clearly wondering what was going on. “We’re on our way now.”  


The woman passed the phone to her husband, who took it and answered, a bit dazed, before leading him off across the lobby towards the exit.  


She technically had to make a speech in about twenty minutes, but it wasn’t important.  


They might finally have some definitive evidence, enough to get Crocodile locked up, but it wasn’t important.  


What _was_ important was getting to their children. And thanking her husband for building something that had, essentially, saved their lives….in a backwards sort of way.  


* * *

Pudding noted the calm, but urgent look on Robin’s face as she subtly signaled her husband across the room. She watched him get up and disappear through the doorway with her, leaving two more empty chairs at their table.  


Sanji was gone, and now them, and she had a bad feeling about whatever was happening.  


Perhaps it was foolish, but the longer the night wore on without Sanji, the more worried she felt for him when she should probably be more worried for herself. Her mother’s wrath, as she’d quickly learned, was not to be toiled with.  


She remembered a time when that hadn’t been the case.  


Pudding tore her gaze away from the doors, back to her family’s table, where her mother sat beside her with increasing agitation that the dessert course hadn’t been brought out yet. Nevermind that they hadn’t even started dinner.  


Mama had always been driven, always been sure of herself and the life she wanted for her children. Pudding had never really felt the absence of a father figure, because Mama was more than enough. She loved fiercely, and she wasn’t afraid to show it. And though they hadn’t been terribly well-off growing up, she’d always felt secure because Mama had always assured her and her siblings that she had a plan---that they’d be taken care of no matter what.  


She’d told the truth, and Pudding had never doubted her. That day, when she was a mere ten years old, her mother had told her they’d never have to worry about money again, and it had stuck with her.  


The kids at school had made fun after that, called her mother a slut, a drug addict, a swindler, but Pudding hadn’t cared. _They_ weren’t the ones who’d moved into the huge house in Whole Cake. _They_ weren’t the ones who got to have the best clothes, the best new toys, and Mama had found a way to prove all the naysayers wrong. Nevermind how she'd achieved her wealth.  


The day Sanji had first proposed to her had felt like that too, like she’d somehow achieved something if someone as good as Sanji could love her. But now, what odds was she beating? What good was she if she’d only begun to hold people back, disappoint them, even her own mother?  


“Where is that boy? Hasn’t he been gone for too long?” Mama was saying, glancing around the room with a sneer. “And come to think of it, where did Aladine run off to?”  


Her sister Praline said nothing, strange considering how possessive she normally was over her husband. But the knowing smirk that tugged at her lips spoke to something none of them knew, and for some reason, it only served to heighten Pudding’s nerves.  


“Honestly, Pudding, this is getting ridiculous. If Sanji isn’t back here in five minutes, down on one knee, then he’s gonna have trouble!”  


Pudding frowned, especially when she heard the unnerving little laugh that left her sister in response to that.  


“And me…?” she risked asking, fingers twiddling with worry in her lap. “Will _I_ have trouble…?”  


Her mother turned to look at her, beady eyes calculating and somewhat suspicious.  


“That depends, my sweet. Do you know where he is?”  


She was lucky, she supposed. She really _didn’t_ know where Sanji had gone. He’d kept that bit of information from her, probably for her own good, but it still didn’t make her feel any better, seeing the cold threat that lay behind her mother’s gaze.  


Nothing was the same. Things were changing. Her mother’s values certainly were, money and status becoming more and more important when she’d thought, for most of her life, that she’d known where her mother’s priorities had lied.  


Pudding didn’t like the look her siblings cast her way either, similar to Mama’s, looks that almost dared her to step out of line, to admit to any sort of defiance.  


Sanji had never looked at her that way. Even when he was displeased with her, his eyes had always been kind, sympathetic, almost seeking to understand even if he couldn’t. In the car earlier, he’d told her they couldn’t work. He wouldn’t go along with her mother’s plan, and he’d done so with such confidence, confidence that they would both be alright---that they could _both_ be happy.  


She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe in _him_ because he’d never given in to his own misfortune. She’d had what he hadn’t, growing up, and he’d never faulted her for it. He’d wanted her happiness above all, and wasn’t that how it should be?  


“No, I don’t,” she answered, with equal finality in her voice.  


And then, before she could stop herself, she’d pushed up from the table, fingers clasping the small clutch that held her phone.  


“I think I’ll go look for him.”  


No one protested, though her mother did watch as she walked away from the table, give a vague warning of, “Hurry back.”  


Pudding strode across the room, out the same doors through which Robin and Franky had disappeared a minute earlier.  


In fact, when she entered the lobby, she saw the two of them rushing out the exit.  


That was what she wanted to do, and it was what she found herself doing, stopping to retrieve her jacket from the coat check desk, lifting the bottom of her dress up as she descended the stairs outside and strode down the street, high heels clicking on the cement purposefully when she reached the sidewalk.  


Sanji had no doubt taken his car, but it was fine, because the walk felt good.  


The brisk air felt good, and it felt good to take her phone out, dial three specific numbers and bring the device to her ear.  


It felt good to speak to the operator, say, “Yes, I’d like to report a crime. I know the whereabouts of a drug warehouse belonging to Big Mom.”  


And when the operator asked her to identify herself, assuring her that her identity would be protected, it felt good to answer, “I’m her daughter.”  


Even if that was no longer what defined her entirely, it was still liberating.  


* * *

The fact that Zoro was fighting so fiercely seemed to surprise Bones. Clearly, and especially judging by the assumptions he’d made in the car, Bones hadn’t expected Zoro to do much of anything, especially not use a _sword._  


But Zoro didn’t want to be scared anymore. He was done being someone Kuina wouldn’t be proud of---someone that couldn’t stand up for himself, couldn’t protect his daughter.  


Sanji had appeared. He didn’t know how or why, but Sanji had come and given him Kuina’s sword, and if he couldn’t muster his own strength, then he was _damn_ well going to use hers.  


The fire had begun to encircle the room entirely, and the heat and smoke was stifling, yet still Bones staggered to his feet after Zoro landed another blow.  


“Give it up!” Zoro huffed out, sweat dripping down his face to mix with the blood that still trickled from his mouth. “You’re done, Bones!”  


But the man simply shook his head, determination clouding his features.  


“You think this makes you a hero, Roronoa?” he growled, wiping at a bleeding gash on his face with the back of a hand. “You think that someone like you, someone who’s been to Hell and back, has any hope of redemption?”  


“I don’t care what the fucking odds are,” the swordsman spit out as he circled the man, Wado outstretched and ready to attack at a moment’s notice. “I don’t care if there’s _no_ hope. I’m gonna make it happen because people I care about need me to.”  


Bones merely scoffed, pivoting to keep Zoro in his view.  


“What do they need from you?” he asked. “Those connections will only make you weak. _Love_ makes you weak---”  


An angry snarl and a blur of movement was all the warning Bones got before the swordsman rushed at him again, swinging Wado down in a powerful arc that collided with the man’s muscled forearm.  


This time, he drew blood, and he didn’t care if he did. Because he knew one thing for sure.  


“You’re fucking _stupid_ if you think that’s true!” he hissed, a glint of satisfaction in his eye when Bones let out a shout of pain and stumbled back, his other hand reaching up to slide gingerly over the long cut on his arm.  


Still, Zoro advanced, nearly backing the other man into the fire behind him.  


But this was over. Love wasn’t what had made him weak. Fear had. Isolation had. But love had been his salvation. It always had been, and it didn’t matter how fucking sappy it sounded. When he thought of the things---the people---he cared about, it fueled him. It _made_ him want to fight, and that was enough evidence for him that love was a great strength---never a weakness.  


He didn’t wait for Bones to say anything else. He didn’t want to hear anything else. He had to see his daughter. He had to see Sanji and find out the answers he so craved, still had to try and understand exactly what that enigmatic feeling had been, when the cook had passed him Wado with that confident smirk.  


There were things he needed to _do_ again, and staying passive, angry, and _fearful,_ above all, would no longer serve him.  


He gripped Wado, lifting the blade and holding it horizontally over his shoulder.  


Koshiro hadn’t taught him this attack, knowing it was too dangerous, but his uncle had. His uncle had always told him to listen for the “breath” of his opponent, the rhythm that defined their every move, and respond accordingly.  


Zoro had broken his own rhythm when Kuina died. Mihawk had seen that defeat and walked away.  


But now, the swordsman wondered if maybe he could do _him_ proud as well.  


Zoro acted swiftly, swinging Kuina’s blade around in a powerful circle to send a fast projectile of air barreling right towards the other man.  


The gust temporarily dispersed the flames, and when it reached Bones, the man went flying back, crashing clear through a window and soaring out of sight.  


Zoro could hear the harmonious singing of the blade in his hands.  


* * *

“What the fuck will killing me do for your shitty revenge?” Sanji hissed, dodging another of Aladine’s punches with a duck and a rotated kick that just narrowly missed the man’s throat. “Big Mom’s the one that set Hody up! Don’t tell me you’re too fucking chicken to go after her!”  


“She wants you alive,” Aladine answered smoothly. “Wants you for her daughter. So, naturally, taking you out would hurt her as well. And seeing as you’re still technically the one who turned in the boss, it works for twice the satisfaction.”  


“That’s the pettiest shit I’ve ever heard,” the cook snarked, swinging another kick, this one landing directly in the guy’s side when he couldn’t escape in time. “And what’s gonna happen to Pudding, huh?”  


Aladine grunted, stumbled to the side, and clutched at his ribs, but not for long before he launched an arm up to grab the cook’s ankle.  


“Still on with that chivalrous act, I see,” he goaded. “Thought you wanted nothing to do with her. Maybe it’s time you quit playing coy and figured out where your loyalties lie.”  


“It’s not chivalry! It’s _compassion!”_ Sanji gritted out, just barely managing to wrench his ankle from the man’s strong fist, vaulting off his hands to dance out of reach once more. “You don’t know anything about me!”  


Aladine regarded him for a long moment, and Sanji had to wonder just who the hell this guy was, why he looked at him with an air of something that resembled pity.  


“Call it what it is,” the man said. “But indecision will only weaken you. And someone who’s achieved the freedom you have has no business being tentative with it.”  


The cook didn’t know what to make of that, only knew that the man was pissing him off. And someone like this asshole, who also seemed to have loyalties in two different places, shouldn’t be trying to tell _him_ what to feel.  


“You don’t get to decide what I do,” Sanji growled, and then he bolted forward, leaped and twisted his body in the air to shoot another forceful kick at the man.  


Aladine didn’t dodge. Instead, he stood his ground, tilted his head to the side to avoid Sanji’s flying foot, and lifted a hand to clamp onto the cook’s wrist this time. His other hand met Sanji’s shoulder, and he threw the man against the side of the pool, the blond’s head cracking onto the patio painfully. A second punch landed in Sanji’s ribs with a sickening crunch, sending him splashing into the shallow end of the pool.  


Aladine followed, even though the cook wasn’t moving. He grabbed Sanji and held him under, feeling the water begin to warm with Sanji’s blood that twirled up in wispy patterns.  


He was sorry for this, but he wasn’t going back on his decision.  


* * *

The fire trucks had been the first to arrive, coming to a halt in front of the burning house. Oliver, Thomas, and Tana had run from the backyard, detoured through Mr. Boodle’s lawn and gathered themselves across the street from the house.  


Oliver had passed the phone to his brother, who hadn’t hung up with his parents yet, most likely for everyone’s peace of mind, even though their mom and dad were on their way.  


Firefighters jumped out of trucks, already getting to work locating the nearest hydrant on the street and hooking up hoses.  


The first person to notice the kids was a freckled man with a short black ponytail. Eyes widened when he saw the three, watching the scene silently with shock on their features, and he instantly began to cross over to them, clapping a blond comrade on the back as he went.  


“I got the kids, Marco,” he muttered, to which the other man nodded, and soon, he was knelt in front of them, kind eyes and a reassuring smile on his face.  


“Hey. You guys okay?” he asked. Noting the soot, dirt, and sweat that muddied Tana’s face in particular, along with the small burn, he added, “This your house?”  


Oliver and Thomas nodded, though Tana kept staring fearfully at the flames, looking for any sign of Sanji and her dad.  


“The firefighters are here, Mom,” Thomas was saying into the phone, and the man’s smile turned sympathetic.  


“Yeah. An’ don’t worry. We’re gonna get everything under control. We’ll get some medics out here---check you out. Everything’s gonna be fi---”  


“My dad and his friend are still in there!” Tana blurted out, knowing _that_ was the most urgent matter. Screw everything else, her own injuries. She _needed_ to know they were safe.  


The firefighter’s brow furrowed a little, but he kept calm and gave a nod, turning to yell over his shoulder, “Hey, guys! There’s two still inside!”  


The others picked up the pace considerably, hearing that, and only then did the man turn back to the kids.  


He reached up a hand to squeeze Tana’s shoulder gently, looking to calm that distraught look on the girl’s face. It reminded him of when his brothers were little. He never wanted to see them upset.  


“Alright,” he murmured. “But listen. We’ve got a rescue streak goin’ of one-hundred percent right now. Not lookin’ to change that~ So have some faith in my guys~”  


Tana still looked worried, but in the face of the man’s confidence, she had no choice but to trust him.  


Just then, the sound of tires screeching down the street, and they all looked up to see a bright red Hummer practically tailspinning to a halt beyond the fire trucks.  


“Mom! Dad!” Oliver and Thomas cried as soon as the doors opened and their parents rushed out.  


The two boys sprinted off down the sidewalk, falling into Franky and Robin’s arms, Oliver once again spouting tearful apologies that Franky silenced with a crushing bear hug.  


Tana watched them go, staying where she was, reaching up to wipe numbly at a stray tear that rolled down her cheek.  


The firefighter still in front of her gave a gentle chuckle and another pat to her shoulder.  


“I’m Ace, by the way,” he said, eventually getting to his feet, with some difficulty in his bulky uniform. “Mind tellin’ me your dad’s name? And his friend’s? It’ll help if we can yell for ‘em.”  


Tana sniffed, swallowed hard, not even processing that this was the same friend Sanji had spoken to her of earlier. This was why the guilt didn’t hit her right away when she answered him.  


“Um…” she mumbled, barely able to look the man in the eye, not when there were tears in hers. “My dad’s name is Zoro….and his friend’s name is Sanji….”  


Ace’s face fell, in spite of his professionalism. And that was when the fear hit Tana like a train.  


* * *

A deafening crash, and a huge plume of smoke came billowing out from the completely smashed window through which Bones had shot, the unconscious man now lying facedown where he’d skidded to a halt on the grass.  


And a mere few seconds after, another form---this one very much still fighting---burst through the opening as well.  


Zoro was panting heavily, sweat mixing with the blood and soot that dirtied his skin, but he stood proud, attention only shifting to the figure he sensed in the pool after he was sure Bones was out.  


Eyes narrowed in confusion when he locked onto Aladine, not recognizing him as one of Crocodile’s.  


But an instant later, he noticed the red blood swirling up in the water beneath him, saw Sanji’s limp hand floating to the surface, the prissy watch he’d made fun of not even a week ago glinting almost teasingly in the firelight.  


And Aladine met the same fate as Bones.  


Zoro didn’t know who he was or why he was there, but all it took was a short survey of the scene in front of him before he rushed forward, drew Wado back and slashed across with a speed unheard of to send that pressurized shot of air hurtling straight for the man.  


It hit Aladine before he even knew what was happening, knocked him right out of the pool with a great splash and sent him flying back into the yard, where he rammed into a tree hard and slumped to the ground, unmoving.  


Zoro waited, watched for any sign that the man would get up, but he didn’t, so he hastily sheathed Wado and ran to the edge of the pool where the water still churned from Aladine’s exit.  


The swordsman’s heartbeat picked up, horror filling him, just as much as when Bones had pulled that gun on his daughter.  


The cook was still submerged, the weight of his suit holding him down against the stairs, and he couldn’t tell where the blood was coming from, but there was _definitely_ blood. And the cook was completely still. He wasn’t coming up.  


Zoro moved with a panicked growl, leaving Wado on the side and jumping into the water without hesitation. It was shallow on that end, and he managed to get to Sanji in seconds, arms slipping beneath his torso and hauling him up out of the water.  


The cook was heavy in his arms, and Zoro noticed, with stark clarity, just how pale the man was in the flickering light, eyes gently closed, enough to send a chill down Zoro’s spine.  


“Oi---!” he hissed, giving him a shake. _“Cook!”_  


But when that yielded no response, he let out another sound that was more worry than frustration, and pulled the man to the side of the pool.  


There, he shoved him up onto the patio roughly, hoping it would miraculously rouse him, but eventually he was knelt beside a very motionless cook, waterlogged suit soaking into the stones beneath.  


Out of the water, blood from a rather nasty-looking wound on Sanji’s temple had begun to mix with the rivulets that ran down his drenched face, and when Zoro pressed a hand to his chest, it was obvious.  


He wasn’t breathing.  


Heavy breaths left the swordsman by contrast, staring down at Sanji’s still form in disbelief.  


“Hey! Cook, come on!” he cried fearfully, a hand jutting out to grab the man’s jaw roughly, slap at his cheek. _“Snap out of it!”_  


But it was no use. The blond lay there, his condition unchanging, and despite the panic, the ice cold terror and helplessness Zoro felt, he knew he had to act.  


Trembling hands tilted Sanji’s head back, wrenched his mouth open. Then, fingers pinched his nose, and with a final hissed curse of, _“Son of a bitch,”_ Zoro leaned over to press lips into Sanji’s, giving him a breath. Another followed, and then he sat up, clasping one hand over the other and bracing palms on the cook’s chest where he began pressing down rhythmically.  


Thirty compressions, and then he moved back down for another two breaths, followed, again, by compressions.  


Zoro was faintly aware of the sirens and the commotion that floated through the air from the front of the house, but none of it mattered.  


“Fucking---let’s _go!”_ he huffed between cycles, having to cough a few times as inhaled smoke and fatigue began to catch up to him, but he refused to stop.  


He couldn’t, not when it was all starting to come back, not when he was starting to see _her_ again, lying there unresponsive beneath him, that chilling feeling of failure creeping through him---that he’d lost something unspeakable and it couldn’t be undone.  


But no. Sanji wasn’t lost, he told himself, to keep the panic at bay. He couldn’t be.  


The cook wouldn’t die like this...  


* * *

_He hadn’t expected Kuina to. He hadn’t expected to hear that final shuddered breath, see the focus---the literal light---leave her eyes before they fluttered shut for good. He hadn’t expected any of it---to slip when his footing was always so sturdy---to cut when he was fully capable of **not**.  
_

_She’d said it would all be okay, after he’d swiftly pulled the sword out from under her ribs, where it had lodged at an upward angle. She’d looked at him, with fight in her eyes, and she hadn’t said goodbye. He’d known it wasn’t the end. That she’d kick his ass for stabbing her, for forcing her to get blood on Wado’s hilt, for staining Kitetsu’s finely polished blade.  
_

_They had their daughter. She couldn’t leave. Tana’s school trip was that Thursday, and Kuina was supposed to chaperone, even if she’d bitched about dealing with other parents. Hell, they were both supposed to pick up Tana at Franky and Robin’s in an hour.  
_

_She couldn’t be lying there, warm blood pooling on the mats, between his fingers as he desperately tried to stop it.  
_

_He hadn’t even panicked that much. Not until she’d stilled entirely, the smirk on her face slowly disappearing, the reassuring ferocity of her gaze with it.  
_

__

_His hands had maintained pressure on the wound, waiting for her to stir, but when she hadn’t…  
_

__

_“Kuina…”  
_

__

_Her name fell from his lips. Then, again, with more urgency when she didn’t reply.  
_

__

_“Kuina…!”  
_

__

_One of his hands left her stomach, shakily landing on her face, smearing blood on her cheek, but uncaring about anything save for getting a response.  
_

__

_“Kuina---come on---quit fucking around---”  
_

__

_He shook her, slapped at her cheek, and when his fingers finally jammed to her throat, feeling for a pulse that just wasn’t **there** anymore, he found himself numb.  
_

__

_This hadn’t happened. He hadn’t done this. There was no way. It was all a bad dream, surely.  
_

__

_He sat there, waiting for something to change, waiting for her to open her eyes, to take his hand and tease him for worrying. That was what should have happened, had any other time she’d been injured. Why should this time be any different?  
_

__

_He couldn’t feel, and yet, his first reaction was to scream, lean over her, take her face in both hands and scream, harsh breaths leaving him as he did.  
_

__

_“Kuina! Wake the fuck up---!” he shouted. “When the **fuck** have you ever stopped fighting, huh?”  
_

__

_He kissed her hard, lips colliding with hers almost angrily, as if he could bring her back with just that contact. She wasn’t leaving him. She **wouldn’t**. He knew her as well as he knew himself, and he knew she wouldn’t do this.  
_

__

_His mind refused to catch up with the defeat his body was starting to react with, as trailed kisses over her jaw, caresses to her cheek, and desperate words in her ear did nothing to restore the warmth slowly seeping from her body, that horrible emptiness he felt with every unreturned touch.  
_

__

_The wetness of tears slid down his face, teeth baring against the agonizing reality that now threatened to knock him down, drag him into the depths of the pit of despair that would keep him prisoner for over a year, unbeknownst to him.  
_

__

_When Koshiro hurried into the room, having heard Zoro’s cries, most of which Zoro was unconscious of, he found the swordsman curled over his daughter’s prone body, his hands tangled in her hair, forehead pressed to hers as silent but powerful sobs shook his broad shoulders.  
_

__

_“Don’t leave me…please...I’m sorry, I didn’t...” he was whimpering to her, and it was only then, through his shock and confusion, that Koshiro noticed the blood, the three swords scattered unceremoniously on the floor around them.  
_

__

_“Zoro…” the man had murmured, his voice quiet and calm, but the deep furrow of his brow giving away his concern. “Did you do this…?”  
_

__

_The swordsman had tensed, a shuddering exhale huffing out of his lungs as everything---shame, guilt, sorrow, grief---came at him, all with that one question from the man who’d helped bring into the world the woman he’d just taken.  
_

__

_He’d done this. He couldn’t blame Kuina for leaving because this was his fault. He was the one who’d robbed this man of his daughter, his own daughter of her mother. And himself of the only person he thought he could ever love as deeply.  
_

__

_This was **her** blood on **his** hands.  
_

__

_He’d turned his head away, unable to look the man in the eye. But he’d managed to get out a self-hating, “Yes…”  
_

__

_The truth.  
_

__

_Koshiro had no choice but to call the police.  
_

* * *

He’d been at it for too long, it felt like. Sanji wasn’t reacting to any of his resuscitation attempts, and Zoro was becoming more frantic.  


__

Who had that man been? Why the _fuck_ had he done this, and why hadn’t Sanji gotten out like he’d urged him to? Where was his daughter?  


These were important questions, the answers to which became less and less critical the longer Sanji didn’t take a fucking breath, the longer he stayed too pale and still. The longer it looked like he really might fucking do this---that he might actually---  


No. Not again. He wouldn’t fucking _accept_ this!  


The thought ran through him---he didn’t _want_ to be alone. He didn’t _want_ his daughter to be alone again. He didn’t want to feel as he had for so long. He wanted to feel alive, like there was fucking shitty _hope_ for them, like someone was _there_ who _got it,_ got his daughter, and---  


This wasn’t...the shitty cook couldn’t...  


_“Sanji!”_ Zoro snarled, feeling an absolute, immense fear build within his chest, and before he even knew what he was doing, his hand was at the blond’s cheek with far more tenderness and care than he was even aware of.  


He’d leaned in close, for no other reason than _being_ close to him, his nose nearly brushing the cook’s as he panted erratic, distressed breaths.  


“Sanji, come on. Don’t be _stupid_ \---you’re not---!”  


Zoro couldn’t even finish, unsure of what he was even trying to say. And he nearly caved to the very real urge to give Sanji something other than a breath when their lips next met. Something he was coming to realize, perhaps in the wrong moment, that he very much needed from Sanji.  


But he didn’t, the last shred of his common sense telling him that what _Sanji_ needed was air above all else.  


So he went again, exhausted, with burgeoning anguish overwhelming him.  


One breath. Two….  


He’d barely pulled back an inch from Sanji’s lips, but that was when it happened.  


The cook’s body twitched, as did Sanji’s features.  


And then a cough, followed by another, water coming with it, and a somewhat choked gasp.  


Zoro shot up, moist eyes wide with shock as he stared down at the struggling, but _breathing_ cook.  


He knelt there, watching Sanji’s breaths, feeling trembles returning to his own form, an intense relief crashing over him, and with it, a feeling he couldn’t explain.  


It was like when he’d kissed Kuina for the first time, like when he’d first held his daughter---that feeling of blissful _‘oh,’_ after being so scared, so terrified for so long. That feeling of right.  


He had to turn away, not wanting to miss a second, but needing to wipe at his eyes, take a moment to pull himself the fuck together after nearly reliving his lowest moment in life.  


He still listened, as those coughs and gasps eventually slowed a bit, until things were quieter, calmer than they had been that night.  


_“Zoro…?”  
_

The swordsman’s gaze whipped back to the man, still breathing heavily and coughing every now and again. Still bleeding, but still _alive._  


Sanji was looking up at him blearily, looking terribly out of it, a wince marring his features when he tried to take a deeper breath.  


Zoro didn’t say anything, just let eyes flick fearfully over the blond for signs of any other hidden injuries. As it was, it looked like the cook was having trouble staying conscious, most likely thanks to that gash on his temple.  


He should have replied, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what he would even say, or do. How could he even justify what he felt in that moment?  


_“You idiot…”_ Sanji eventually muttered, presumably at the dumbstruck look on Zoro’s face.  


Sanji’s hand lifted shakily off the ground, brushing the backs of fingers against Zoro’s arm in a subtle gesture that was still more than enough to make the swordsman suck in a sharp breath, gaze instantly flitting to the tiny spot of contact which managed to send tingles up his arm.  


_“Just get me---the fuck out of here…”_ the cook sighed.  


And then that hand slowly slid from Zoro’s arm back onto the patio as the cook lost consciousness again.  


For a moment, Zoro’s mind shot right back to that split second when Kuina had slipped away from him. How sudden and quick it had been.  


But Sanji still breathed; Sanji still had color in his lips and…  


His lips.  


Almost unconsciously, the swordsman reached up to brush fingers at his own, just for a short moment before he shook his head, letting the lingering relief and adrenaline give him the strength to carefully gather the cook into his arms.  


Sanji’s head slumped onto his shoulder, and Zoro slid fingers through blond strands gently in order to get him situated.  


He grabbed Wado, holding onto it with the arm he slipped beneath Sanji’s knees, managing to get to his feet with everything he needed.  


A last glance he shot at Bones and Aladine, both still unconscious where they’d landed. They were far enough from the house that they shouldn’t have been in danger of the flames, so he left them there for someone else to attend to.  


His mind felt like it was in a fog as he carried the cook out of the backyard, braved the heat and smoke one last time as he circled the house to the front.  


He didn’t quite know where he was walking, until he found himself amongst flashing red lights and people scrambling about in reflective firefighter gear.  


Who had called them? He didn’t know, but as soon as they spotted him, he had paramedics whisking him over to a stretcher, where they took Sanji from his grasp and strapped him on with surprising speed.  


It started to hit him, as his fingers slid from the cook’s, watching them wheel the man towards a waiting ambulance, just how close he’d come to losing it all.  


He’d thought telling his daughter the truth would cause it---that ultimate loss. But it was quickly becoming clear what the real cause would have been. Or rather... _who._  


“Wait! Hey, kid! You shouldn’t be---!”  


_“Dad!”_  


A smaller body collided with his, arms encircling his waist and hands desperately clutching at his jacket, and he tore his gaze from the cook to see Tana holding onto him, her face buried in his stomach and her shoulders quivering.  


Immediately, his arms came up to circle her, holding on just as tightly as a shuddering breath left him, and he brought his nose to her hair.  


There were paramedics trying to get both of them to sit down, but he didn’t give a fuck.  


His daughter was here. She was safe; they both were. And Sanji…  


Zoro shifted his head, just enough that he could peek over Tana’s to watch the cook be loaded into the back of an ambulance, the heavy doors slamming shut behind him.  


He wanted to be with him. But he also wanted to be right here, with Tana, keeping her protected from anything else that tried to harm her. Because he could do that now. He’d regained that ability.  


He felt her move too, turning her head to watch as well when the ambulance sirens kicked in, and the vehicle began to pull away from the curb.  


“S-Sanji…” she whimpered tearfully, and he closed his eyes, pressing lips to her hair and holding them there for a long moment.  


_“He’ll be okay,”_ Zoro murmured back, trying to keep his limbs from trembling and his grip on her strong.  


He believed his words. He had to.  



	15. Beginning

“Okay, deep breath once more…...Good. Okay.”

The doctor removed the stethoscope from his ears and slung it around his neck with a smile. 

They’d been lucky Dr. Chopper was in that night. He was the best pediatrician in the hospital, and while there hadn’t been any particularly dire injuries, it was still good to know the best was looking after his daughter. 

That didn’t mean Zoro himself was going to be a good patient. He’d mostly skipped out on a check-up by insisting, with increasing intimidation, that he was perfectly fine. And he was. It was Tana he was worried about. Screw his own health. 

So he sat, arms crossed over his chest, in a chair across the examination room while the young doctor, who looked barely out of school, with a mess of curly brown hair, finished up with Tana. 

The short man gave Tana a reassuring smile, then turned to her dad, Zoro leaning forward and trying to conceal his worry as best he could, despite the calm look on the doctor’s face. 

“She’ll be fine,” Dr. Chopper assured. “I’ll give you some antibiotic ointment for the burn, but it should heal up in a few days. Her lungs and throat are a little irritated from the smoke, so I’ll also prescribe an anti-inflammatory. It might be a little painful for a bit, but it’ll be okay. Ice cream might help too~”

Zoro’s eyes closed with relief, and he nodded. 

“Thanks,” he said as he opened them again, managing a tiny upturn of lips when his daughter looked over at him. “Yeah, ice cream’ll….we’ll get that.”

It was clear he too was exhausted, so Chopper chuckled gently and moved over to the small desk to scribble out a few prescription forms which he handed over to Zoro a minute later.

“Take these to the desk on your way out and they’ll get you set~” he said. 

Zoro’s eyes scanned the paper blankly, as if reading a foreign language, and with that handwriting, it might have been. 

“I just cleared Oliver and Thomas before you,” Chopper was saying to Tana, squeezing her shoulder gently. “So you’re free to go. But if anything starts to bother you, you call straight away, okay?”

This question was seemingly directed at both of them, the first stern order the man had given, and it was strict enough to have Zoro and Tana nodding obediently.

“Good~” Chopper replied, instantly breaking into a smile again. “Now go home and get some sleep.”

He made for the door then, turning back to look at them just before he slipped through. 

“Oh,” he said, as if remembering something. “I think I heard Dr. Trafalgar say your friend’s awake. The blond guy? It’s late, but he might let you in to see him~”

And with that, he strode out into the hallway and shut the door quietly behind him. 

This left Zoro and Tana alone, neither saying anything, Tana dangling her legs absently over the edge of the high examination bed on which she was situated. 

Sanji was awake. Sanji was okay, and while this excited both of them, relieved them entirely, neither moved just yet.

Fatigue had caught up to them, yes, but without fear and adrenaline and action, they were both rather drained, with little to say to one another, despite all that _needed_ to be said. 

They would have to talk, Zoro knew. And while this talk still scared him, the worries he’d had about it before all seemed pretty stupid now.

“Come on,” he murmured, getting to his feet slowly and crossing over to offer a hand to her. “Let’s go.”

She looked up at him tiredly, but she nodded and took his hand, sliding her arm around his and clinging to it as they left the room too.

* * *

They made their way down the emergency ward hallways, now fairly empty and calm after the hustle and bustle of their own emergency had died down. 

It was late, close to one in the morning, and things seemed to move in slow motion as Zoro and Tana walked past quiet rooms, the occasional sound of faint voices and beeping monitors floating out. 

When they came to the end, near the exit that led out into the vast waiting area, Zoro (or rather, Tana) found the prescription counter and waited while a pharmacist prepared the order. 

He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, Tana seeming ready to fall asleep against his arm. 

They must have been out of it because the pharmacist had to call his name twice before he noticed her handing over the small bag with a sympathetic smile. 

The swordsman mumbled his thanks. 

And that was when, from a room across the hall---a more open recovery room with windows instead of walls---came a tall, dark-haired man in a lab coat, rubbing at his chin scruff with a curiously tattooed hand and muttering to himself irritably about visitors forcing themselves in, far past visiting hours. 

When the door to the room had slid open, the sound of more lively voices filtered out briefly, and it was enough to have both Zoro and Tana wandering closer out of curiosity. 

What they saw surprised them both, because it was _Sanji_ resting on the bed in that room. 

Zoro’s heart clenched hard, mouth dropping open slightly. 

The blond was awake indeed, sitting up against a bunch of pillows. He wore a hospital gown, a large square bandage taped to his temple where that gash had been. There were monitors on either side of his bed, wires sticking out of his arm, and though he still appeared to be a bit pale, he looked like himself. 

There were others in the room with him, and the cook had a scowl on his face talking to one, an exuberant-looking man with unkempt black hair and an excited grin big enough to split his face. 

On Sanji’s other side, her back to the door so her face wasn’t visible, was a woman with a long orange ponytail. Both her and the man still wore jackets, as if they’d rushed here and only just arrived. 

A third figure, Zoro noticed only later, was seated casually across the room on a chair, pink hair covering one eye, and a smirk on her face that matched the cook’s exactly. It had to be his sister. 

Zoro had never seen Sanji’s other friends---heard about them, but never seen them---and something about it made him uncomfortable. Everything that had happened to them in the past few weeks felt so personal, like it was an experience to be shared between them and _only_ them. 

He felt...possessive, in a way, even though he knew that was stupid, but dammit, _they_ hadn’t been involved. _They_ hadn’t rescued him, hadn’t felt the pain and terror of nearly losing him. He didn’t fucking _care_ that they’d known Sanji longer---there was no way they cared about him as mu---

The cook locked eyes with him through the window, suddenly, and his world stopped. 

Sanji looked surprised to see him too, for a second, but then his face relaxed in a way it hadn’t the whole time he’d been talking to his friends. 

That same warmth he’d felt when Sanji appeared in that burning house---when the cook finally took that breath and came back to him---it filled Zoro’s chest and left him feeling almost light-headed. 

He hadn’t felt like this in the longest time. This utter elation that left him feeling secure and scared at the same time. But he did recognize them as feelings he’d had before, feelings he’d never thought he’d feel again after Kuina’s death. 

It was a good feeling---it truly was---seeing Sanji slowly smile and quirk a brow at him, almost as if to express pride in him. Pride that they’d made it out together. 

It sent a shot of electricity right to the swordsman’s lips, where he remembered Sanji’s, not how they should have been, cold and slack. He automatically wondered, for the first time, how different they would feel now.

But that feeling brought guilt. And that was something he hadn’t expected. He hadn’t felt this since Kuina. _Kuina_ was his; he still loved her. How could he replace her or think about replicating what they had? 

She would always be so special to him, but Sanji---

He felt somewhat exposed when, noticing Sanji’s gaze directed at him, the red-headed woman turned around to look through the window at Zoro too, along with the man and the cook’s sister as well. 

He felt like they’d caught him thinking things he shouldn’t be thinking, and his face actually went red. 

He didn’t look away though, kept eyes on Sanji only, who’d sunk into a gentler smile, one that seemed fond as he looked at the two. 

Tana leaned against him a little more, and Zoro’s arm came around her shoulders automatically to squeeze her close. 

He wanted to stay, to talk to him. But he wanted to do it alone, and right now, with his daughter fading, and admittedly, himself as well, he knew they should both get home. 

Zoro looked away, tilted his head down to press a kiss to the top of Tana’s head before he rubbed up and down her arm a few times. 

“Let’s go home,” he murmured to her. “Think he’ll be okay tonight.”

She made a soft, sleepy noise, but nodded, then lifted a hand to wave faintly at the cook, who gave a confident little salute with two fingers.

But then, those blue eyes were right back on Zoro, watching him with an intensity that Zoro feared would make him lose his balance, right there on the spot. His heart fluttered stupidly, and his head felt fuzzy, though that could have been from fatigue. 

He managed a nod to the cook, and Sanji smirked, leaning back against the pillows a little more, and he made a gesture as if to shoo the mosshead away. 

Zoro rolled his eyes, nearly flipped him off automatically, but didn’t, due to his friends’ presence. 

Then he finally tore himself away, arm still around his daughter as he guided her off down the hall towards the waiting area to, hopefully, find Franky and Robin. 

They’d nearly reached the swinging doors when, behind them, he heard the door to Sanji’s room slide open, and Zoro foolishly found himself hoping it was the cook, even though he knew that was likely impossible right now.

Instead, a voice he didn’t recognize called his name, surprisingly. 

“Zoro!”

He turned around.

It was the man, Sanji’s dark-haired friend, and he jogged across the linoleum to catch up to the swordsman, the red material of his sports jacket swishing as he did, a bright smile on his face.

“Hey! I’m Luffy!” the man introduced, waving a hand in greeting. “You’re Zoro, right?”

As if he hadn’t just addressed Zoro by name, but the swordsman ignored it. 

“Uh...yeah,” he replied, kind of wishing the guy hadn’t come out to talk, because he was really fucking tired right now. 

“Thought so,” Luffy replied. “You’re the guy who saved Sanji!” 

Oh, jeez. He hadn’t wanted fucking _recognition_ for that. It made him squirm just thinking about it. 

“We both….got each other out,” he muttered uncomfortably, eyes flicking away for some sort of escape, but Luffy only laughed jovially. 

“You’re so cool!” he chirped. “Thanks! Think Sanji woulda been in some big trouble if it weren’t for you!”

Awkwardness creeped over the swordsman as that smile of the man’s practically burned into his _soul._

“I dunno....maybe,” he mumbled, then huffed a breath. “Just---tell him we said hi, I guess. We’re goin’ home now. Pretty beat.”

Again, Luffy laughed, awfully chipper considering it was the middle of the damn night. 

“Kay!” Luffy replied, and he reached out to give Zoro a hard, appreciative clap to the back, making the swordsman stumble a bit. “We’re gonna be awesome friends, I can just tell~”

“Oi!” Zoro grumbled, once he’d regained himself somewhat. “Who says we’re gonna be---?”

“Later, Zoro! And Zoro’s kid!” 

And apparently, Luffy was putting an end to their interaction by bounding back towards Sanji’s room, giving another flailing wave before disappearing through the doorway. 

Zoro stared after him for a long moment, feeling a twitch developing in his right eyebrow. 

Then he quickly shook his head and ushered Tana away again, eager to make a run for it before any other weirdos stopped them. 

* * *

By the time they found Franky, Robin, and their boys in the lobby, Thomas was asleep on a chair, cuddled into his mom’s side, and Oliver looked barely awake as well, yawning terribly when the adults began talking quietly. 

Franky and Robin offered to drive Zoro and Tana home, much to their gratitude. 

Ten minutes later, when they were on the road, the three kids were passed out against each other in the third row of Franky’s huge car, Zoro in the middle row with Wado over his lap, eyelids drooping. 

Franky and Robin had spent the entire night still in their gala clothes, and while Zoro desperately wanted to know what the hell happened with Crocodile, he was content with waiting to sort things out in the morning. He’d already told the cops that had shown up at Robin’s the whole deal, and Bones and Aladine had been taken to the hospital under police escort. 

The car ride was quiet, the three conscious adults all too exhausted to converse, and honestly, what was there to say? So much had happened, enough fear and chaos for a lifetime, but Zoro couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

The fire had been contained to the first floor, save for the section of ceiling that had caved in above the living room, but that didn’t mean significant damage hadn’t been done, and if he hadn’t gotten himself dragged there, then---

“Don’t blame yourself, Zoro.”

Robin’s voice murmured gently over her shoulder, and it was only then that Zoro realized they’d reached his apartment, that they had, at some point, arrived and parked outside. He found himself too drained to be freaked out with his friend’s ever persistent mind-reading. 

“The children are safe, and so are you. That’s all that matters to us,” she assured, lips turning up slightly in the darkness. 

Zoro knew this, agreed with this. But he’d never be able to repay them for the damage done. 

Franky too sensed his displeasure as he spoke up next, glancing back at the man through the rearview mirror. 

“Yeah, bro,” he said quietly. “We’ll have it rebuilt in no time. The kids’ll have fun stayin’ at their idiot uncle’s, and stuff can be replaced. Been wantin’ to buy a bigger TV anyway. And the Poneglyph’s indestructible, so that’s all good too~”

Franky and Robin were always welcome at his apartment, but he knew it would be tight quarters, so it was for the best that they stayed with Iceberg. Yet, Zoro still felt like he wasn’t doing enough, like he hadn’t done enough for them for a long time now. 

But he knew it was pointless to argue with them, so he sighed, hoping he’d feel more clear-headed about it after sleeping. There was so much still swirling in his mind, after all. So much he still had to come to terms with. 

“If you say so,” he muttered, in a tone that was unconvinced enough to make Robin chuckle. 

She reached back to take his hand and squeeze it comfortingly.

“You should go visit Mr. Chef tomorrow. I’m sure it will make you feel better~”

He looked at her for a long moment, wondering how much she could infer just from her vantage point. And he didn’t know why, but the little spark of excitement in her eyes, like she was hopeful for something Zoro didn’t quite have figured out---it spurred him to confess what had happened earlier that night. Not for her approval, but for his own peace of mind. 

“I told Tana…” he murmured, looking her in the eyes. “I told her the truth….about Kuina…”

A sharp intake of breath from both Franky and Robin, the two of them sharing a glance for a split second before Robin’s eyes were on Zoro again. Her hand didn’t leave his, and in fact, her lips turned up in a slow smile. 

“I always knew you could,” she said. 

He wasn’t expecting to have to hold back tears. It was rather sudden, the burning behind his eyes, but he held it back, because how stupid would that be? He couldn’t. Not when the kids were here, albeit asleep, and his friends were here, staring at him. 

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d let go and actually cried. 

Well, okay. He _could_ remember the last time. He just didn’t want to. 

The swordsman couldn’t say anything else, merely nodded and swallowed back the lump in his throat. 

He shifted then, to unbuckle his seatbelt and twist around to glance at his daughter. 

She was fast asleep, her head slumped against Oliver’s, so he reached out to place a hand on her knee, shaking gently. 

“Hey….Tana, we’re home,” he murmured, and her features tensed before she gave an unhappy groan and just managed to blink awake. 

He gestured again for her to get herself out of the car, which she did slowly, still half-asleep it seemed. 

Zoro too opened his door and got out to wait for Tana. 

“Can I borrow your spare key?” he mumbled to Franky. “My wallet’s….uh....think it’s back at the dojo…”

The older man nodded and tossed him the copied key to Zoro’s apartment he’d gone ahead and made for himself back when the swordsman first moved in. Zoro hadn’t even been himself enough, at the time, to complain. 

Tana stumbled her way out of the car blearily, and he helped her, brushing hair from her face before finally deciding to scoop her up into his arms, considering how much of a zombie she was. 

The girl let him, curling into his chest and wrapping arms around his shoulders tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

He elbowed the car door shut behind him, and paused to say a final goodbye to Robin and Franky, who had rolled down his window so they could speak. 

“Call us if you need anything, bro,” Franky said, and Zoro had to give a quiet scoff. 

“Says the guy whose house almost burned down…”

But a small smile tugged at his lips and he nodded. 

Zoro stood on the sidewalk, still holding the odd combination of Tana, Wado, and the prescription bag as he watched Franky pull out of the parking spot and drive off into the darkness. 

The night was quiet, the usual noise of the city now dormant, only a few passing cars in the distance. 

Zoro sighed, then made his way into their building, up the stairs to their apartment. 

He went straight to Tana’s room once inside, only slowing to place Wado and the medicine on the kitchen counter, not even bothering to turn on lights. The streetlamps outside shed enough through the windows for him to find his way. 

When he went to his daughter’s room, he realized, with a twist in his gut, that he’d hardly been in there since they’d moved in a few months ago. Shouldering open the door, he was struck by how unfamiliar the bedroom looked. 

It was far less decorated than her room at their old apartment. She used to have posters up, trophies and medals from competitions. He knew this because he and Kuina had proudly bought her a bigger shelf when the awards began to pile up. She’d picked out her curtains, her desk, the striped rug on her floor, asked for the walls to be blue, so he and Franky had spent a day painting them.

Now the walls were white and mostly bare, save for one---the one directly beside her bed, he noticed as he gently lay her down there. 

It was covered, he saw, in a large collage of photos, and his breath stilled in his chest when he realized just what they were photos of. 

It was them. As they used to be. The three of them. Living life. _Enjoying_ it. 

They were times he wanted desperately to return to and leave behind him all at once. 

He remembered what Sanji had told him in the car just a few days ago. How he felt like he was waiting for permission. For someone to tell him it was okay to let go, and especially now, Zoro felt the same way. 

He wanted to know he could, that he wouldn’t hurt anyone by moving on, by striving for that happiness once again. 

“Dad…?”

Zoro hadn’t noticed there were tears streaming down his face as he looked at those pictures until he heard Tana’s voice, bringing him back to where he stood, in the present, the photos nothing but memories from a place he couldn’t go back to. 

Instead of stopping the tears, he found he couldn’t. In fact, a few harsh breaths left him and his eyes merely burned more, despite knowing his daughter was awake and watching him.

He could have lost her that night. He could have lost Sanji, and though the thought had been in his mind ever since Bones pulled that gun on Tana, the revelation hit him full force in that moment. After everything that had happened in their lives, they were _lucky_ to be together, lucky to have each other. Sanji had thought so, and though he hated to admit the cook was right about anything, he could at least think it. And he should never be allowed to throw that away again. 

The swordsman felt his daughter’s arms come around his neck, and he shuddered, instantly lowering himself to the bed and reaching up to hold her back. 

Tana was trembling against him, tired tears of grief and lingering fear trailing down her face as well. Seeing those tear tracks on her dad’s cheeks….her _dad,_ who was usually so stoic and strong…. She hadn’t seen him cry once, not even after her mother’s death, but it was clear now. Just how much pain and suffering he must have been bottling up inside for so long. 

It was stupid of him, and she still didn’t entirely understand why he would have done such a thing to himself. 

But now, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere, knowing he was going to fight for her…

Her quiet crying became more pronounced, feeling his arms holding her close, just like when she was younger. 

Tana turned her face, nuzzling against Zoro’s collar, and then the first words that came to mind spilled out of her. 

_“Dad….I love you,”_ she whimpered. 

Zoro’s body shook with the force of a cathartic sob that left him, because it had been so long. So long since anyone had said that to him. He and his daughter had never even said it since they’d lost Kuina. It was horrible, and there was absolutely no good reason for it.

_Fuck._

He hugged her tighter, gritted teeth through another tearful shudder, then kissed the side of her head fiercely. 

_“I love you too, Tana,”_ he assured, and though he’d never stopped, there was no way he’d let her forget it again. 

* * *

When Zoro awoke, it was light out, and he was a little confused to find, once his senses began to come back to him, that he wasn’t in his own bed. Instead, he was in Tana’s, and his daughter was curled on her side, still asleep a foot away from him, both of them having been too exhausted the previous night to even climb under the covers.

Slowly, he sat up, head pounding a little and his limbs feeling a bit heavy, but other than that, he felt fine. No worse than he would if he had a few dozen beers. 

A glance to the digital clock on Tana’s bedside table told him it was nearly midday, which, honestly, wasn’t so surprising given the night they’d had. Thankfully, it was Sunday, though if his daughter wasn’t feeling one-hundred percent, he’d take her out of school the next day. 

His gaze drifted down to Tana, fingers reaching out to brush at her hair affectionately. 

Then he carefully moved off the bed, gathering up his jacket and their shoes that they’d kicked off onto the floor in order to settle in bed more comfortably. He hadn’t even intended to stay there, just wanted to make sure Tana fell asleep without problems. But apparently, his own exhaustion was too much, and he’d passed out there too. 

He let her sleep, leaving the room quietly, dumping the shoes and his jacket near the front door before heading into his own room. What he wanted, and probably needed, was a nice shower.

A long stretch and a loud yawn as he walked. It was odd how, after resting, the insanity and the heightened emotions of the night before faded nearly to normalcy as routine took over. 

His shower was normal, getting dressed was normal. 

He’d come out of his room in fresh jeans and a T-shirt Franky had bought him while his family was on vacation a few years ago. It had a big stupid smiling sun on it, with sunglasses, and he usually just scowled at it in his closet, but he’d had nothing else clean. 

And it wasn’t until he walked past the hallway bathroom that any of the events from the previous night came rushing back. 

Tana was awake, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, trying to peel back the bandage on her face. 

Zoro stopped in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and shooting her a look. 

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” he said, though he honestly had no business scolding anyone when it came to medical things. 

She ignored the warning, still picking at the tape. 

“I just wanna see it,” she mumbled. “The doctor put some weird gunk on it last night and it feels sticky. Plus, I wanna shower.”

Zoro smirked, then stepped in next to her and reached out to swat her hand away gently. 

“Here,” he said, and she let him carefully peel back the tape and pull away the cottony bandage. 

Underneath, the wound was still small, didn’t look too bad, but it was covered in a goopy, clear ointment. 

“Che,” he scoffed quietly to himself. “You really need all that on there…?” As if he knew better than a real doctor. 

He pulled some toilet paper off the roll then and dabbed at it carefully to try and clean some of it off.

“How do you feel?” he asked as he worked, and she sighed. 

“Not _too_ bad,” she replied. “Still tired. My throat was sore, and I was really thirsty when I woke up, but other than that…” She shrugged. 

“Breathing okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“M’fine too,” he assured, before wadding up the toilet paper and throwing it away. “Go ahead and shower. I’ll start breakfast.”

She turned to look at him, surprise on her features. 

“Breakfast?” she asked, and it was his turn to shrug. 

“Why not? Might as well,” he said, smirking a little as he started to head off down the hall again. 

But she stopped him after another moment of brief shock. 

“Wait!” And she rummaged in the pocket of her hoodie before she pulled out his phone that she’d kept there since last night. 

“Your phone,” she said, handing it over. “I think Sanji texted you.”

Then she disappeared back into the bathroom and shut the door this time, trying to hide the tiny smile on her face. 

The tingle that shot through him, upon hearing that, was absurd. It shouldn’t have been so damn exciting, but he practically ripped through the device to open his messages on the way to the kitchen. 

_‘Hey,’_ the first of several texts sent that morning read. _‘You’d better come visit me today ‘cause I’m fucking stuck here. They won’t let me leave until tomorrow ‘cause of these damn broken ribs.’_

About an hour passed between the first message and the next, the second reading, _‘Ugh, I’m so bored! Can’t sleep here either. And you’re probably passed out on your couch sleeping the damn day away…’_

The next timestamp came a half hour later. 

_‘They won’t even let me walk around! You zombie-walked around the whole city when you had a concussion, and they’re over here telling me it’s dangerous! I totally fucked up your brain, and you survived! This is ridiculous!’_

Another two texts below that. 

_‘Nah, but lbh, your brain was already fucked before I hit you.’_

_‘Haha.’_

Zoro scowled down at the phone, and almost began to type a reply before he thought otherwise, yanking open a drawer in the kitchen for a spare pair of earbuds that he plugged into his phone and immediately voice-called the idiot cook instead. 

It took less than three rings for Sanji to pick up, and it took less than three words for him to have the swordsman running a hand over the stupid grin that spread over his face. 

_“Zoro, you fucker!”_ Sanji screeched into his ear. _“It’s noon! I’ve been sitting here wasting away for hours!”_

“Since when is it my job to entertain you?” Zoro grumbled. “Quit your bitching, m’up now. Now walk me through how to make pancakes.”

_“What? How damn hard is it. You pour batter on a pan and flip it.”_

“Yeah, but I haven’t done it in a while,” Zoro said, sticking his phone in his pocket and heading over to a cabinet where he thought he kept pans. “Just walk me through it.”

_“Urgh, you’re such an idiot. Alright, look, you’d better have---”_

And then Sanji proceeded to rattle off a list of necessary things that even Zoro knew already. Maybe he wasn’t _good_ at pancakes, but he certainly knew the basics.

But if the cook was as bored as he claimed, the weirdo was probably itching to get in the kitchen, and this was the best Zoro could do to at least simulate it for him.

And maybe, just maybe, he could also admit to himself that he just wanted to hear the cook’s voice.

There was a lot they still needed to discuss, where Sanji had disappeared to for the past few days being near the top of his list. But he wanted to do it in person, after he’d had some time to reflect on what he even wanted to _say_ to the cook, though he had a feeling anything he planned would go out the window as soon as they got to talking. 

For now, he was content to listen to Sanji blabber on about different kinds of flour, making fun of him when it was called for and insulting him at every turn. 

It felt natural, and it helped him feel better. 

It helped him chase away the brief fear he’d had when he’d pulled the limp blond from that pool, saw him lying there, cold and motionless.

Sanji was here. Sanji was alive. And Sanji was an irritating, fussy moron. But that was how it should be.

* * *

The cook indeed walked him through the pancakes….and the bacon (which, thankfully, Zoro had), and even the fucking toast before his doctor, the guy with the tattoos who Sanji said was actually pretty cool, forced him to go get an X-ray or some shit, and he had to hang up. 

Zoro was pissed about it, but he’d told him to cool it with the bitching because he and Tana would come visit later that afternoon. 

He had everything nearly set up on the table by the time Tana finished in the shower, the girl shuffling out to the kitchen in fresh leggings and an oversized T-shirt, her hair combed, but still wet. 

She rose an eyebrow at the three plates of steaming food that actually looked _good,_ almost suspiciously so. 

“Did you really make all this?” she asked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Obviously,” he insisted, gesturing to the pan that still sat atop the stove and the mixing bowls he’d thrown in the sink. 

“You didn’t, like….go get McDonald’s breakfast or something and bring it back?”

“No!” he screeched indignantly, slamming down the carton of orange juice too hard on the counter and sloshing some out. 

Zoro scowled and grabbed a paper towel to mop it up, shoving her glass across to her. 

“Maybe I had some…. _advice_ though…” he mumbled when he finally sat down at the table with her and began loading up his plate with food. 

“Did you call Sanji?” she asked knowingly, shooting him a smirk while she pulled a few pieces of bacon onto her plate. 

He scoffed, mouth full already, and he did his very best to seem entirely put out by how damn annoying the cook was. 

“Only ‘cause he texted me a billion times, bitching about the hospital and stuff. He practically begged us to visit him later.”

“So we’re gonna go?”

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s an idiot and wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Tana grinned, especially when her dad seemed determined to stuff his face with food after that, as if trying to conceal any eagerness. 

She let him pretend he wasn’t excited, and the two fell into comfortable silence as they ate. 

It was how it used to be. They’d always been okay with silence together, the little glances and smirks they exchanged on occasion more than enough to communicate. Some people didn’t understand it, but it worked for them just fine.

But as they finished eating, with nothing more to occupy them, the air between them started to grow heavier, and it became obvious that they needed to talk. 

It was nerve-wracking, and Zoro felt his chest tighten, but it _needed_ to happen, and he was done running from this shit. 

Tana had set down her fork, most likely sensing the same thing, and she pushed her empty plate to the side so she could fold her arms over the table, looking up at him somewhat warily. 

Neither of them had really expected to have this talk over plates of devoured pancakes, but life seemed to love throwing unexpected things their way. 

Zoro sighed, took a deep breath, and reminded himself that Tana wasn’t going to run from him. She hadn’t thus far, and she seemed just as ready as him to finally face what they had to face. 

Kuina would want this.

 _Sanji_ would want this…

He reached out his hand across the table, and after flicking her eyes to it for a moment, Tana slowly reached out to take it. 

Zoro gave a squeeze, closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again to look her in the eye, remembering that he’d already confronted the worst. The worst was over. 

“Tana…” he started, not even sure what kind of speech he should make, so he began with something that was true. “I’m sorry…”

She didn’t reply, just kept looking at him with a faint sadness in her eyes, a look that shouldn’t have been there in a kid her age.

There was nothing else to do but continue. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t….” He trailed off, then tried again. “Sorry I kept the truth from you…I told you….I was scared, but….that’s no excuse because…..your mom would’ve wanted you to know. And you deserved to know.”

His confidence grew a bit as he spoke, especially when she didn’t react badly, didn’t interrupt and protest. Instead, she listened quietly, and after he finished, she let out a breath. 

“You don’t gotta keep things from me, Dad…” she mumbled. “I’ve seen shit. I can handle it.”

Zoro blinked at her. And despite the gravity of the moment, he snorted out a barely-stifled laugh.

“You’ve _seen shit?”_ he asked. “You weren’t the one who went to prison.”

This drew a smile onto her lips, and the thought that she _could_ smile even at a time like this only made it grow. 

“Mom would think you’re stupid, y’know…” she said after a minute, though there was still a smirk on her face. 

Zoro sighed and lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. He could practically _hear_ Kuina’s scolding in his head. Hell, he basically had heard it again thanks to Sanji.

“I know. _I_ think I was stupid,” he admitted. “Pretty sure everyone does.”

Tana nodded fervently, and when he asked, “You too?”, she nodded even harder. 

“But…” she added, and her smile turned a little guilty. “I’m sorry too. I kinda sucked and wouldn’t talk to you or anything. Like, all I wanted to do was punch you and stuff---I wouldn’t listen. And Grandpa should’ve said something too.”

The swordsman let out a little breath of relief.

“Yeah, well....we’ll have to talk to him later,” Zoro said, and he admittedly wondered how that conversation would go, judging by Koshiro’s rather emotionless demeanor. He smirked though. “You wanted to punch me?”

She grinned.

“Yeah. Still kinda _do.”_

She pulled her hand from his then and punched the air towards him, prompting him to grab her fist before she could connect with anything.

His thoughts drifted to Sanji, seeing her grin. Something told him that, without the blond’s help, this wouldn’t have been such an easy conversation. In fact, it almost seemed a little _too_ easy. He’d admittedly expected her to be quite a bit angrier still, quite a bit more upset. Sure, the events of the night before might have put things into perspective for her, but he was still surprised. 

“I have to….well, there’s something else…” he added slowly, deciding to continue while she seemed content. “The cook…..he already kne---”

“Yeah, I know. He told me.”

Again, Zoro blinked, mouth slowly dropping in confusion. He shook his head as if to clear it.

“Wait, what? When? In the five minutes he ran into the fucking burning house?”

“Nah, before that,” she said, twisting her hand in his grasp until he let go. “I called him and he came to the dojo. We talked and then he took me to Oliver’s. Then he left to find you ‘cause you disappeared….but...you were with those guys…?”

Zoro furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of everything she told him. 

“Yeah….” he answered slowly. “They were Crocodile’s guys….they threatened you if I didn’t go with them, so…”

Another thought struck him though. If Tana and Sanji had really been together before he showed up at Robin’s…

“Did he say where he was? Why he didn’t reply for freaking days…?” 

Tana shrugged.

“Think he said his ex’s crazy mom was threatening him too. You guys need to stop getting on people’s hit lists….”

Zoro groaned loudly, mostly to cover up how relieved he was. Sanji hadn’t been ignoring him. He hadn’t disappeared on purpose, hadn’t been trying to cut Zoro from his life. 

It had been a silly thing to worry about, but he _had,_ and hearing that Big Mom _threatening_ Sanji had been the only thing to keep him away....well, he couldn’t help but be glad about that, something that normally wasn’t anything to be glad about.

“What’s with the look?”

He startled somewhat, only realizing after his daughter spoke up that he had a dopey-ass grin on his face, which he quickly moved to hide with a hand. 

“I don’t got a _look,”_ he shot back, then pushed away from the table and picked up his plate. “Come on. Let’s clean up and go see the idiot.”

Tana watched him trying so damn hard to keep his smile from creeping back onto his face. 

He paused before he swept past her, stopped to look at her for a long moment, at her features which so mirrored Kuina’s. She would always look like Kuina to him, no matter how many people said she resembled him. He missed her. He did. But she wasn’t gone entirely. He had to remember that.

His hand crept out to take his daughter’s chin in hand, stroking affectionately with his thumb for a second. Then he leaned in to kiss her forehead. 

“Thank you…” he murmured, closing his eyes and nuzzling his nose to her hair. “For understanding and shit. It’s not easy. And there’s still a lot that I gotta get over, but….promise I won’t shut you out again. I promise we’ll get through shit together….”

He felt her fingers slide over his, and he heard her murmur back, “Okay, Dad…” 

The swordsman stayed like that for another moment, a feeling of unbelievable peace washing over him for the first time since Kuina’s death. 

Then he batted at Tana’s cheek, hard enough to elicit an, “Ow!” before pulling away to take his dishes over to the sink.

“You’re still stupid!” she called as she gathered her plate too, rubbing at her oh-so-wounded cheek.

 _Not as stupid as the cook,_ he automatically thought, for no particular reason, though he let her have the last word. That silly grin came back full force.

* * *

Sanji watched, rather dumbstruck, as the TV screen across the room displayed scenes from the gala last night on the news. But instead of shots of beautiful dresses and handsome suits, prominent partygoers posing for pictures, it showed Big Mom and Crocodile both being led out in handcuffs. 

It was almost amusing, to see Captain Smoker and his team dragging the criminals down the red carpet to the waiting cop cars, Crocodile looking angry as hell, and Pudding’s mother practically foaming at the mouth with a dazed expression. 

He couldn’t believe it. 

Well, Crocodile’s demise, he could. Apparently, according to the news anchor, a tip had been given from an anonymous (mossheaded) source that just so happened to be at the scene of the fire, signaling Crocodile as the leader of the operation. It had only been confirmed when one of his grunts who’d worked to dismantle Robin’s Poneglyph had admitted to his involvement. 

But Big Mom….

Sanji muted the TV and turned back to Pudding, who was seated in a chair beside his bed, hands nervously clasped in her lap. He hadn’t expected her to visit, but she’d shown up with news that utterly floored him.

They’d let him change clothes, albeit carefully, into sweatpants and a T-shirt, but he couldn’t sit very comfortably, or twist too much in one direction, thanks to his ribs. Yet he sat forward, looking at her as if he didn’t quite believe who was sitting there with him. 

“You seriously turned her in….?” he asked, and she nodded, looking down to her fingers sadly. 

He stared at her for a minute, then let out a breath and brought a hand to his bandaged temple. 

What the hell had changed her mind? What the hell could have driven her to do such a thing when she’d _always_ been so damn loyal to her mother? 

Had it really been that threat to her life…?

Sanji knew it would be more than enough for him, but for Pudding…?

She looked lost, sitting there making herself small on the seat. She looked lost and alone in a way he’d never really seen from her. Pudding had always been able to make herself look timid, sometimes in order to get her way. But now she looked exactly, and genuinely, how he’d felt after turning his brothers in. 

“I’m proud of you, Pudding,” he said, almost without thinking, but it was true. He didn’t think she had it in her to do such a thing, but she had. Still, he understood the road that followed, the road of self-doubt and uncertainty. 

And he saw it in her eyes when she looked up at him, almost in surprise, like she hadn’t been expecting such praise.

“I am,” he emphasized. “I know how hard it must have been. But you shouldn’t be afraid, or have regrets about what you did. It took a lot of guts, and I think you did the right thing. For both you _and_ your mom.”

Pudding made a small noise of disagreement, averting eyes again and shaking her head slightly. 

“She’ll never forgive me if she finds out it was me,” she said dejectedly. _“No one_ in my family will. I just….want things to be like they were before. When her _children_ still mattered most to her.”

“You took her out of it though,” Sanji justified, shaking his head. “You took her out of that endless cycle of money. Maybe it’ll be---”

“Good for her?” Pudding finished, sounding skeptical. “Are you saying you think prison has changed your brothers?”

Sanji actually let out a dry chuckle. He supposed she had a point. 

“No,” he admitted. “But they never had a good side to begin with. I’ve always wondered if they were genetically modified to lack emotions or something…”

His little attempt at humor didn’t seem to comfort her much though, so he sighed and softened his smile a bit. 

“What I mean is that....people can return. To their better selves. I’ve seen it happen. Even to the _biggest_ of idiots.”

It was true. Zoro had done what he’d thought was impossible, not long ago. And he’d never tell it to the mosshead, but it actually gave him hope. For himself and others. It made him want to grow stronger for the people he cared about. Because there were still people he cared about and that cared about him. They hadn’t gone away just because he’d removed his brothers from his life. 

Pudding was watching him, melancholy not yet having left her gaze, but there was a little spark of determination, and as long as there was that, well, it was as good a start as any. 

Just then, a soft knock at the door, before it swung open, and in strode two invited, but unexpected visitors, one significantly shorter than the other. 

“Okay, why the hell’d they move your room?” Zoro was grumbling as he came in behind his daughter. “Took forever to fucking fi---”

But he stopped short, noticing the woman sitting by Sanji’s bed, who looked over, eyes widening in shock when she noticed the swordsman in turn. 

It took him a minute. A _long_ minute of trying to decipher why the hell those two dumb pigtails looked so familiar, why she seemed to recognize _him_ with a look of dread. 

Until it hit him. 

“Oi! _You!_ What the hell are _you_ doing here?!”

The only reason he knew this was Pudding was because of the time she’d accompanied her mother to come see Crocodile, and he, frankly, wished he _didn’t_ know her stupid face. Because it only made him want to beat it in all the more for everything she’d done. 

“Hey, hey!” Sanji interrupted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Zoro would walk in at this moment, though he couldn’t deny the tingle of happiness that shot through his chest upon seeing his friend again. “Alright, cool it, shithead. Don’t be rude. She’s allowed to be here---”

“Not after all the shit she and her mom pulled!” Zoro screeched, barely listening through his green rage. “You seriously think that---?”

“I was just leaving,” Pudding abruptly said, getting to her feet. 

“No---Pudding!” the cook cut in with a frustrated huff, though he didn’t sound quite as put out as he was trying to seem. “He’s just being---”

“It’s okay,” she assured, moving the chair back to its original place by the wall. 

After that, she paused, looking at the blond one more time. 

“I’m sorry for the trouble we’ve caused you,” Pudding said, lips turning up the tiniest bit. “And thank you….Sanji. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Her face turned a little pink then, so she quickly turned on her heel and strode from the room without another word, leaving Sanji a little astonished at her sudden exit. 

That left him with little time to shift focus to the seething mossball in the room, and his kid, who’d taken the liberty of climbing up on Sanji’s bed across from him, plopping down a plastic shopping bag in front of him.

“We brought you stuff,” Tana said, seemingly uncaring of her dad’s ridiculous outburst. 

The cook pouted, glaring up at the swordsman, who glared right back, and the two froze like that, essentially trying to laser beam each other with their eyes until Tana let out an impatient breath.

“Go on---check it out!” she insisted, nudging it towards him again. 

Sanji reluctantly tore eyes from the mosshead, _only_ because Zoro had moved to take the same chair Pudding had used, turning it around and straddling it backwards like he owned it, folding arms on the backrest as he settled in to watch the cook reach into the bag. 

Sanji pulled out four things, and when he had them sitting in front of him, he had to stare in deadpan shock. 

“Alright, I’m withholding judgment until you fucking explain,” he eventually stated calmly, sitting back and crossing arms across his chest. 

Zoro jabbed a finger out towards the bag’s contents, chin resting on his other arm. 

“The yogurt’s for eating; the coloring book’s for coloring,” he dictated slowly as if Sanji understood nothing about the world. “And the crayons are for putting color on the page.”

“Oh, shut up!” Sanji shrieked irritably. “I know that! But why!”

“Well, what did you want, a tub of fried chicken?” Zoro scoffed. “I figured they’ve probably got you on some strict no-solids hospital diet.” In fact, they didn’t. “So it was either baby food or Trix yogurt. I was being _thoughtful._ And the coloring book’s all about cooking. Did you even notice? Look, the spatulas have faces and shit.”

Sanji reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, head throbbing painfully, and not from his concussion. 

Tana took the opportunity to push the fourth item towards the blond. 

“Those were all his ideas, but this one was mine,” she said. “It’s a seafood cookbook! And I dog-eared a bunch of stuff I like on the way here so you can make it sometime.”

“Wh---you just want me to make you food again! You two are the worst!” 

“Hey, at least we _brought_ you stuff!” Zoro protested. “You should be grateful!”

“Yeah, but I think a card or some _flowers_ would’ve sufficed!” the cook shot back, gesturing to the nice bouquet from Pudding that was situated on the table beside the bed. 

Zoro stared at them, noticing the small card that bore Pudding’s name, and his glare was back full-force, this time directed at the inanimate plants. 

“Flowers are dumb!” he declared loudly, as if he wanted the flowers themselves to know. 

_“You’re_ dumb! And so is your shirt,” Sanji insisted, noting the weird smiley-faced sun T-shirt that Zoro hadn’t changed out of.

But he did take the cookbook with a smirk to Tana.

“Let’s see what you marked,” he said, flipping through to the first dog-eared page and looking at her expectantly for further explanation.

Tana smiled and scooted closer on the bed to begin detailing just why she’d chosen an elaborate lobster dinner as her first choice. 

Zoro tried to offer uncultured opinions every now and again, which Sanji shot down immediately, but it was fun, and the cook honestly hadn’t realized how much he’d missed these two in the past few days.

It was comfortable, sitting here, pushing all the stress of the previous night and the stress of being in a hospital behind him. And as ridiculous as it was, when he and Tana had diverged into quietly coloring a large picture of dancing vegetables, it was actually relaxing. 

Sanji was glad--- _so_ glad---that she and her father seemed to be fine, physically and mentally. He assumed they had to have talked, and the fact that they seemed completely content with each other, even after the swordsman had told her the truth, brought a warmth to his heart. 

There was more to say though, and he felt it when he’d glanced up to see Zoro watching him, with tumultuous eyes that seemed confused and longing at the same time. It was a powerful gaze, and Sanji wasn’t sure what to make of the way it sped up his pulse, made him more aware of how he sat, even though his options were limited with his injuries. 

Zoro didn’t know the weird things that had been rolling around in his mind the whole time he’d been here, especially after he’d seen Zoro through the window of his room last night. He’d been in the middle of berating Luffy for something---he couldn’t even remember what now---still worried sick because he’d woken up not knowing what the hell had happened to Zoro or his daughter. 

But then he’d looked up, and there he was, and dammit, it had felt _so_ fucking good to see him there. He’d blamed it on relief and painkillers clouding his senses, but he’d even had a moment where he thought the swordsman himself looked good---like a warrior or some shit after a battle, a little banged-up, but proud and confident as he stood there holding his daughter protectively. 

Everything before that was pretty unclear---his fight with Aladine, waking up to see Zoro hovered above him---but that moment in the hospital was much more so, and now that he sat here, feeling Zoro’s eyes on him, he had a hard time ignoring it. 

It wasn’t one of those ‘Stop staring at me’ things though. It was something else. And Sanji wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

So he occupied himself with those dancing vegetables and the innocent way Zoro’s daughter was busy trying to shade a tomato with different colors of red. 

The afternoon, from that point onward, passed rather quickly, and Zoro and Tana stayed up until the end of visiting hours without even realizing it. Sanji had eaten the disgustingly artificial yogurt Zoro had so _thoughtfully_ brought, and he felt _a lot_ of disdain for Dr. Trafalgar when the guy came to kick out his visitors. 

But they had to go, and he did bid farewell with a ‘Thank you’ for the things they’d brought, because he wasn’t a total ingrate.

Still, he felt rather empty, when faced with a lonely room again, even with the TV and his phone on the table beside him. 

He immediately picked up the device, almost as soon as they’d left, and started a new text to Zoro.

 _‘I guess I owe you dinner for saving my life,’_ he wrote. _‘So wanna come over tomorrow night? Tana’s welcome, but….kinda think we need to talk.’_

It was nothing that needed to be _kept_ from Tana, per se, but he just wanted to try and work through all the shit that had happened with Zoro, and apologize properly for staying away.

Zoro’s reply came less than a minute later. 

_‘I’ll see if Robin can take her. I’ll bring the booze.’_

Sanji settled back against the pillows and smiled.

* * *

Zoro wasn’t late to Sanji’s apartment the next day, but that was only because Sanji had pulled the age-old trick of telling him a much earlier time than he actually wanted him there, giving him ample time to get himself lost. 

They’d let him leave the hospital in the morning, and seeing as Zeff had prevented him from going back to work until the next day, he’d gone straight to the grocery store, then kept himself furiously busy all day in his own kitchen. He’d made a nice coffee cake for Robin, Franky, and their boys, as a sort of apology for the shit that happened to their house. Logically, he knew it wasn’t his fault, but he still felt guilty, and he wanted to at least try and make up for it somehow. 

By the time Zoro arrived, panting and looking frazzled, like he’d run all over the damn city to get there, dinner was almost ready, and Sanji was setting out serving plates on the counter, white rice, grilled swordfish, and a vegetable stir fry. It was a simple meal, but he’d taken notice to what Zoro liked, though the swordfish was mostly to amuse himself. 

“Ugh. Shit,” Zoro huffed, carting a huge shopping bag full of booze with him. “Traffic was freaking---”

“Right on time,” Sanji interrupted with a smirk. “And what, you telling me you took a taxi?”

“I---” Zoro started to say, but the instant he noticed the evil _knowing_ look on the blond’s face, he stopped, grumbling instead, “No….”

“Thought so. Now come on,” Sanji urged. “I just finished so let’s eat while it’s hot.”

The swordsman rolled his eyes, but stalked over to the kitchen, plopping the bag of alcohol down on the counter and shrugging off his jacket, which he tossed over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. 

There was something about the scene before him that had nerves oddly coiling in his gut. 

Sanji had the table set, and it was one thing to go out drinking with the cook, or just talk somewhere, but dinner? Sitting down and eating a meal together? Just the two of them? He’d agreed to it, but it felt way more intimate than he’d expected….

….Even more so when they were actually seated across from each other, with Sanji sipping stylishly at a glass of red wine, and Zoro feeling awkward as he hunched over his heaping plate with a beer bottle beside him. 

“Go ahead and start,” the cook said, noticing how the swordsman just kind of sat there as if waiting for permission. 

He didn’t make any move to sit forward and lift his fork though, so Zoro quirked a brow at him. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” Zoro asked.

“Yeah. But I wanna know what you think first,” he explained with a shrug. 

It was weird, but the cook was a weird guy, leaving Zoro with no choice but to dig in. 

“S’good,” he mumbled with his mouth full after a few bites, and he immediately earned the scowl he’d foreseen. 

“That’s it? I make your favorite shitty food, and all you have to say is-- _S’good_ \--?” 

Sanji did his best imitation of the swordsman’s dumb gravelly voice, and Zoro glared his way as he chewed. 

“What the hell do you want me to say? _Oh, wow, this is the best. I love how you did that thing with the thing and made it taste like food.”_

Zoro grinned broadly when he got the exact reaction he’d been fishing for---Sanji trying to stab his hand with a knife when he reached out to guzzle some of his beer. 

“Missed,” Zoro teased, pulling his hand away in time and giving a wiggle of eyebrows. 

“Shut up!” Sanji growled, along with a few more choice curses under his breath before he finally started into his food. 

“Where’s Tana?” he asked soon after, glancing up at Zoro again, who met his gaze for a second before flicking it back down to his food.

“Franky picked her up. They’re staying with Franky’s brother who works at the shipyard, and he’s gonna give them a tour or something. That was basically the only thing that could get her to go. She didn’t wanna miss your food.”

Sanji chuckled. 

“Well, luckily she’s only missing out on shit _you_ like,” he said, then his gaze turned a little more serious as he recalled a question he’d been wondering ever since he’d seen the two in the hospital after the fire. 

“Is she doing alright?” Sanji asked, noticing how Zoro slowed his eating and eventually looked up to give the cook his full attention. “I mean, she seemed okay yesterday. I didn’t think she got hurt too bad when…”

Zoro shook his head when Sanji trailed off, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of _something_ in his chest at the concern Sanji continued to show for his daughter. Sanji had been there for her when he couldn’t, and it was still something he had yet to thank the cook properly for, though he didn’t know if he ever could. 

“She’s okay,” Zoro assured. “Her throat was sore, but the doctor gave her some stuff for it. And her face got burned a little, but nothin’ that won’t heal.”

Sanji nodded, though he still looked worried, like he wanted to ask something else, and Zoro figured he knew exactly what it was. 

“She told me,” said the swordsman. “That you came and got her after….after I told her about Kuina and---”

The cook looked mildly surprised for a second that Zoro had guessed what was on his mind before he blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

This time, Zoro had to stare at him in surprise, brow furrowing. He set down his fork entirely. 

“Why…?” he asked slowly.

The cook huffed out a frustrated breath because, as far as he knew, it should be obvious.

“One---because I ignored you for days! And two---because _I_ took Tana to Franky and Robin’s!” Sanji insisted, as if Zoro should have _known_ that and already been angry with him for it. “She wouldn’t have been caught up in all that if I had just left her at her grandpa’s! She could’ve died!”

Zoro kept staring at him for a long moment.

Sanji really felt guilty about that? When it wasn’t his fault in the slightest? He couldn’t have known any of that would happen, and he doubted Tana wanted to see her grandpa right away after the things she’d learned from Zoro. 

“Like any of that was your fault, cook,” he said, and it was almost liberating to say so, almost like he was forgiving himself by extension. “We all got caught in it for dumb reasons, but it was nothing that could’ve been avoided.”

Actually, Zoro realized, the cook had been the only one who _had_ shown up by choice. And by that logic...

 _“You_ could’ve died too. You almost did!” the swordsman justified.

It was the first time Zoro had mentioned that moment to the blond, and though it didn’t begin to cover the awful feelings he’d had while trying to save him, he wasn’t even sure he knew how to touch on that to begin with. 

The look on Zoro’s face was fierce and intense, and it was something Sanji wasn’t sure he’d seen from the swordsman. It was something rather raw, and it was so much like fear that it took Sanji aback.

But Zoro couldn’t have been fearful for _him._ He knew Sanji was strong, knew he could fight, that it would take a fucking lot to kill him. A lot more than he’d faced. 

And yet, hadn’t he felt the same for Zoro? The second he’d seen him there in that blazing room, surrounded by fire, fighting a man with his bare fists, a man with a gun….hadn’t he fucking feared for Zoro’s life too? 

“I wouldn’t have,” Sanji finally mumbled in response, embarrassment in his voice because he wasn’t stupid. He knew it was an unhelpful thing to say, so he finished it up with the reason that he truly believed in. 

Eyes met Zoro’s seriously and he stated, “You wouldn’t have let me.”

Zoro’s expression changed entirely. His heart did a flip in his chest, and he gaped at the cook in shock, feeling his pulse speed up and his breath catch. 

Why did that resonate with him? _Why?_ Why couldn’t he reply? Why did his heart ache suddenly, and why had Sanji rocked him so thoroughly with just that simple statement?

It left him speechless for a good long minute.

 _“Sanji…”_ he eventually stammered. _“....What…?”_

Of course he knew what Sanji meant, but why would he say that? Why would he believe, _trust,_ that the swordsman wouldn’t let anything happen to him when it was _clearly_ a gamble? His hands weren’t clean. Sanji of all people knew this.

The cook’s eyes, meanwhile, had widened in response to that utterance of his name---his _real name._ Not “cook” or anything else. 

“I---” Sanji stuttered back, suddenly looking just as shocked as Zoro. He scrambled to explain himself through his fluster. “Well, you _wouldn’t_ have! I _trust_ you---I _know_ you wouldn’t---”

Zoro’s breaths came lightly, head feeling like it was filled with cotton. Everything was hazy; he couldn’t think straight.

And something extremely powerful came over the swordsman in that moment---an urge, or a possession of sorts that he certainly hadn’t planned on. It was an impulse that suddenly made everything click into place in his mind. He knew what he wanted. For him---for Tana. He knew _why_ he’d been feeling the things he’d slowly begun to feel. He knew _exactly_ why.

That something powerful had him suddenly lunging up from his seat, leaning across the table and fisting a hand in the cook’s shirt. 

He pulled him in close and slammed lips to his.

The contact was rough, initially, and he vaguely registered the cook letting out a noise of surprise just before his lips were assaulted. 

It only took a few seconds though before the swordsman loosened the pressure automatically, pulling away slowly to end the kiss tenderly. 

It happened fast, but Zoro felt that amazing electricity---felt it in a way he hadn’t since Kuina, and when his eyes opened slowly to find himself an inch from the cook’s face, Sanji staring back at him with eyes as wide as saucers, he began to realize what he’d just done. 

_Instantly,_ dread filled him, and his hand sprang from Sanji’s shirt as if burned, the swordsman backing up fast enough to give himself whiplash. 

Sanji said nothing, just sat there in shock, not even moving to fix his rumpled shirt. 

Oh no….what the _fuck_ had he done…?

“I-I’m sorry,” Zoro stammered, getting to his feet and bringing a hand to his forehead, looking anywhere but at Sanji. “Fuck. I didn’t---”

What did he do? The cook still hadn’t said a word, still hadn’t even _moved._ He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up something that he absolutely _hadn’t_ wanted to fuck up. He hadn’t even known what he was doing. He’d just…. _done_ it...

Heavy pants left him, a feeling almost like nausea, that came from shame and fucking terror, creeping up his throat. 

He shouldn’t stay. Sanji would kill him. 

Fuck. _Fuck._

 _“I’m sorry…”_ he hissed, then turned on his heel, instinct kicking in as he grabbed his jacket and strode quickly across the room to the door. 

Then he wrenched it open and disappeared out onto the balcony, hurrying to descend the stairs as the door swung shut behind him. 

* * *

Sanji couldn’t move, could only watch Zoro go, and the feeling in him was one of panic. In his mind, he was reaching out for the swordsman, reaching out to stop him, but he couldn’t make himself move, could only sit there with his lips tingling still and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. 

He could feel the flush creeping its way over his cheeks, over his entire body it felt like. 

Zoro had kissed him. He could hardly wrap his mind around it. Zoro had actually _kissed_ him.

He’d thought before, briefly, that Zoro probably gave him mouth to mouth. Their lips had probably touched then, but it had been necessary. Zoro had saved his life, and he’d never be able to repay him. Like a stupid dinner could be enough for that.

But this had been a kiss. This had been an actual kiss with---well, he didn’t know Zoro’s intentions, but usually kisses had _romantic_ ones. 

Not to mention Kuina---he still loved Kuina! Why would Zoro kiss _him?_ How could he even see Sanji in the same light as his beloved late wife? The mother of his _daughter._

How could Sanji even live up to that _period?_

It rather amazed him though, that his first reaction to the kiss hadn’t been absolute disgust. He regarded himself as a straight man. All the crushes and relationships he’d ever had had been with women. He found women attractive, hadn’t even _pictured_ anything else for himself.

But for some mysterious reason, what Zoro had just done, while it baffled him….it hadn’t appalled him in the way it maybe should have. 

Could he say he would kiss him back? 

No. Not now. He still didn’t understand everything, didn’t feel like it would be fair to _either_ of them, and he wasn’t looking to pity the swordsman, return anything out of sympathy. Zoro wouldn’t want that. 

But he wanted to know. He wanted to know what Zoro _did_ want, if anything. He knew how impulsive the swordsman could be, but there had been something in the way he pulled away from that kiss. Something lingering that was almost sweet. And the look on his face when he realized what he’d done hadn’t been regret. 

Instead, it looked like he’d feared Sanji’s rejection…

At the _very_ least, he didn’t want Zoro to be alone again. He didn’t give a fuck who Zoro liked, which way he swung. None of that mattered because Zoro was, first and foremost, his _friend,_ and after what they’d been through, he wasn’t looking to lose that again.

This thought alone forced Sanji to his feet, sent them pounding on the floor as he swerved around the counter, across the living room to the door, which he threw open, rushing out as fast as Zoro had. 

Fuck, he hoped he could find him. It had only been a minute since he’d run, but if Zoro was sprinting, and with his stupid sense of direction, he could’ve made it to fucking Raftel by that point. 

Sanji was just speeding down the stairs, trying not to trip in the dark, when he heard a loud clatter and a frustrated sound from the alley.

His heart was in his throat by the time he finally reached the bottom, swinging around the corner of the building to find the swordsman there, under the light near the kitchen door, furiously punching holes in a wooden crate. 

Sanji’s stomach fluttered with relief, air shuddering out of him in one whoosh that made his sore ribs throb, but he didn’t care.

Zoro hadn’t seen him yet, and the pain written on his face as he landed another punch, backed up a few steps and raked hands through his hair, was enough to stop Sanji taking another breath.

He stood there, at the end of the alley, unable to move for a long minute, watching Zoro mutter self-berating curses under his breath before he collapsed against the side of the building, fists beside his forehead as he dug it into the brick. Then he turned and slid to the ground where he sat back against the wall and pulled up knees, throwing arms over them and burying his head there.

All because of Sanji. 

He couldn’t just stand there. He had to do something. He wouldn’t let Zoro feel this way when he didn’t _need_ to. 

Sanji was scared too. He didn’t know what was going to happen, how this was going to pan out. But he was determined to make things right, however the hell that was meant to happen. 

Finding a person like Zoro was so rare, someone he connected with entirely, clashed with, everything all at once. Someone who understood _him,_ his past, could give him strength like no other. 

No, he wouldn’t let him fall again. 

“Zoro,” he said bravely, crossing the alley to him in a few strides.

The swordsman’s eyes shot open and his head shot up, gazing owlishly at the blond, who’d stopped in front of him.

Zoro didn’t say anything, just stared at Sanji as if awaiting punishment, but the cook could see the way his chest shook with his breaths, saw him swallow nervously, cheeks and ears beginning to turn a deep red, visible even in the dim light. 

Sanji stood there, knowing he had the upper hand. Zoro was watching him intently, and the cook knew that whatever he said next would have great impact, would define his entire reaction for the swordsman. 

Sanji stuck out a hand for his friend, looked at him no differently than before, a tiny smirk coming to his lips.

“Let’s talk, Zoro,” he said quietly. “And if you’re worried about _feelings,_ don’t be. There’s still a shit ton of alcohol to make a dent in. Might make it easier for both of us.”

He watched and waited expectantly, his hand still outstretched, and the challenging smirk still there. 

Zoro’s eyes hadn’t left him, staring as if transfixed, and Sanji ached to know what the hell was going on behind that dumb look on his face. 

But then, the cook saw the moment, when decision and determination flashed in those dark eyes. Of course the mosshead wouldn’t give up. Not anymore, Sanji thought proudly.

Zoro took his hand.


	16. Epilogue

**__**

**_Six years later…_ **

****

* * *

****

Wado clashed with Kitetsu, the metal ringing out a single high note through the dojo, followed by a scrape as the blades separated again, then another rhythmic ring a few seconds later. 

Swiftness met strength, but neither would budge, so they broke apart, both of them sliding back on the mats a few feet. 

Then, she dropped low on a split decision, sticking Wado’s hilt in her mouth and bringing hands to the ground to balance as she swept at his legs with a fast rotating kick. 

He dodged though, springing up over her leg, and she _just_ managed to transfer Wado to her hand again and block, when he swung both his swords at her in a downward arc.

She let out a frustrated sound, but he merely smirked, pushing against her blade with precise control, enough to force her back into a quick recovery, twisting herself out of the way and pivoting on feet fluidly until she was standing opposite him again, Wado held in both hands. 

She tried again, this time aiming a high kick for his chin as a distraction, keeping the momentum going enough to whip around once more and slice at his stomach. 

But he avoided it somehow, almost effortlessly, ducking under her leg and then nearly knocking Wado from her grip with the force of his own swing. 

It was no good. He was still always one step ahead of her, seemed to be able to anticipate or react to whatever she threw at him with less than a second’s notice. 

Even after all these years, she’d only been able to land small nicks and scratches, the closest call being when she nearly took out his left eye. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt him. But she certainly wished, on days like this, that her dad would fucking start to suck a little. 

Time to try a cheap tactic, but one that was sure to catch him off-guard.

She swung out in a rather obvious attack, one he met easily with his swords. But immediately after that, she told him, “I got the scholarship,” and received the reaction she’d been hoping for.

 _“What?!”_ he screeched in surprise, and she took the opportunity to flick her wrist and make him lose Yubashiri, the sword clattering to the ground a few feet away. 

“Ha!” Tana laughed triumphantly as Zoro gaped at her, grinning and twirling Wado back to her side confidently. “That’s one sword down. That should be worth a million points~”

“Wha---like hell!” Zoro stammered, and the match was indefinitely postponed seeing as he’d lowered Kitetsu and continued to stand there with his jaw dropped and a look of disbelief on his face.

She just smirked and backed up a few steps. 

“Wanna go again?” she asked, raising her sword as he hastily picked up Yubashiri, but not for the purpose of sparring. 

“Wait, wait, wait, back up---you’re _serious?”_ he spluttered, returning both swords to the sheathes he’d belted to his hip. 

Tana grinned, seeing as he was apparently giving up for now, and sheathed Wado as well, walking over to the wall where she’d tossed her jacket and pulling an envelope out of the pocket. 

“I’m serious,” she said, crossing back to him to slap the paper to his chest. 

The swordsman felt like his head was spinning as he slipped a finger under the flap of the already-opened envelope. 

“H-How much did they give you?” was Zoro’s next question.

“Read it,” Tana insisted, coming up beside him and resting an elbow on his shoulder as he did just that. 

It only took him a few seconds before he let out a shuddering breath and brought a hand up to drag through his hair in disbelief. 

“Holy shi---a _full ride--?”_

She bit her lip and nodded excitedly. 

Zoro stared at the paper for a minute more, reading and rereading to make sure he hadn’t missed a detail---make sure this was _really_ happening. 

Of course he’d known she could do it. He’d been there to watch her during her demo for the recruiters. His uncle had gone too, and to hear Mihawk agree that she’d done the best had been a huge moment of pride for him. 

But part of him thought back some twenty-odd years, remembering how devastated Kuina had been when she hadn’t received the money she’d needed. When a dream of hers had died. 

And yet, here he stood, holding an official document from Grand Line University, awarding Tana Roronoa a full-tuition scholarship for kendo. 

Slowly, he lifted his head to look at her again, saw the way she met his eye with sheer joy. 

“Holy shit,” he stammered again. Then, “Holy _fuck! Tana!”_

Hands reached out to grab her shoulders, giving her a shake, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead and smush her to his chest. 

The swordsman bumped his nose against her hair, held it there for a minute and closed his eyes, a chuckle leaving him. 

“I knew you could do it,” he murmured, a hand circling her head gently. 

Then he pulled back, meeting her grin head-on, not having to look far as she was nearly his height now. A thumb stroked gently over her jaw. 

“M’so fucking proud of you,” he said. “And your mom would be too.”

Tana’s smile softened, arms, still around her dad from the hug, giving a squeeze.

“Thanks, Dad,” she replied, then added, “I know I would’ve been in student loan debt hell for the rest of my life otherwise.”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over her back, and he had to breathe a sigh of relief for that as well. 

“Oh, your dad lets you practice without a uniform now?”

A smooth voice from the doorway, and the two of them turned to see Sanji standing there, still in his work clothes, one leg crossed over the other as he leaned casually against the doorframe, surveying the scene before him. 

Tana looked down sheepishly at her flannel shirt and jeans that she hadn’t even changed out of to practice. But thankfully, the topic was soon forgotten when the cook noticed he’d actually interrupted something.

“Should I leave and come back?” he asked, straightening with a smirk. “Was this a bonding moment?”

Zoro and Tana exchanged a look, Zoro handing her back the letter and jerking his chin towards Sanji. 

She grinned and hurried over to the curious cook, who took the letter from her with a quirked brow. Before he’d even opened it, though, he saw the university insignia stamped on the page, and sucked in a breath, looking up at Tana briefly with hope before he opened the letter to be sure. 

And a manic grin spread across his face as well when he read the news, the blond laughing ecstatically before pulling the girl in for a tight hug and a kiss to her cheek. 

“Fucking shit! I _knew_ you could do it!” he exclaimed happily, and she laughed too, wrapping arms around his waist to return the hug. 

“That’s what my dad said,” she snickered. “Thanks for proofreading my essay. Think that probably helped.”

Sanji snorted, pulling back from the hug. 

“Better me than your father,” he said. 

“Hey!”

Tana looked over at her dad following his outburst. Unsurprisingly, he was now glaring at the cook with the usual annoyance.

“Dad, can you even _spell_ ‘scholarship’?” she teased, her look turning skeptical, especially when he struggled for words and finally burst out an indignant, _“YES!”_ a second later. 

“Don’t make him try,” Sanji added. Though, on second thought, it might be amusing, he considered with an evil chuckle. “Who else have you told?” he asked her instead.

“No one yet. Just you two,” Tana said, talking over her dad’s irritable grumbling in the background. “I wanted to tell Oliver, but he’s got a stupid _date_ tonight. Figured I shouldn’t interrupt.”

“That girl you said he liked before?” Sanji asked.

“No, it’s a new one. I just heard about her this week. For two _hours_ on Skype. He wouldn’t shut up about her,” Tana replied, clearly not enthused. 

“Oh jeez,” the cook muttered. “Older woman?”

“Younger,” she corrected.

 _“Younger?_ What the hell---it’s his first year at college! Any younger and she’d still be in---”

“Exactly. She’s a year younger than me---a junior. I doubt it’ll last.”

Sanji glanced to Zoro then, who at least seemed to have simmered down a bit with the conversation change.

“Do Robin and Franky know about this?” Sanji asked, and Zoro gave a little scoff in reply. 

“Uh, yeah. Robin texted me today. She basically did a whole fucking FBI search on the girl. Her name’s Meri. Her dad’s an art professor at Oliver’s school, and her mom works at the medical school,” Zoro muttered, recounting the long-ass investigative message that Robin had sent him. “Think she got Thomas to help her though ‘cause Franky was the only one relaxed about it.”

The poor kid...as if Thomas didn’t have enough shit to deal with, taking his SATs early. 

Honestly, Zoro had skimmed the rest of the text when Robin began detailing what clubs the girl was in at school. He didn’t even want to know how she’d found all that out.

“And if your daughter had a date, you’d be just as bad,” Sanji scolded, glancing over at Tana to back him up. 

“Yeah, and that’s why I’ll never tell him if I do,” she muttered under her breath to Sanji, who smirked.

 _“What was that?”_ Zoro squawked, but the two of them ignored him.

Thankfully, the sound of a phone vibrating interrupted them, and Tana instantly jumped. 

“Oh shit! I bet that’s Uli!” Tana exclaimed, rushing to her phone still buried beneath her jacket on the floor. She tapped out her passkey at top speed, flipping through to her messages. “Fuck. Yeah, it is. Dad, can I take the car?”

“Uh. How ‘bout you tell me where you’re going? What are you doing. Who are you going with,” Zoro deadpanned in response, causing his daughter to roll her eyes as she hastily pulled her hair up into a short ponytail. 

“Does it matter?” she asked, gathering her things and taking off the sword belt that held Wado, shoving it at her dad. “Put this away for me---Akashi’s meeting us and we’re gonna do drugs under the highway bridge. Car keys?”

Zoro took Wado hastily, then automatically dug in his back pocket and tossed them at her.

She caught the keys easily in one hand, and it was only then that he realized exactly what she’d said, temporarily distracted by her abrupt change in topic. 

_“OI! Yer not doin’ drugs!”_ he screeched, but she just laughed. 

“Fine, then….I’m going to the courthouse to finally change my name,” Tana amended teasingly, shooting a smirk at Sanji, who nodded proudly. “I’ll tell Grandpa I’m leaving.” Then she leaned in to kiss Zoro’s cheek, the swordsman narrowing eyes at his daughter. 

“Bye, Dad! I’ll be back by midnight!” she said, and hurried over to give Sanji a kiss on the cheek too and rush out the door before Zoro could enforce an earlier curfew. 

Again, it was a beat too late that Zoro rushed forward to do just that, but Sanji stopped him, crossing over and pressing a hand to the other man’s chest. 

Then he leaned in to capture the swordsman’s lips in a searing kiss to further distract him. 

It lasted a long minute, the cook’s fingers migrating from his chest to his hair to drag him in closer. Maybe he had distracted him, but he could practically taste the over-protectiveness on his boyfriend’s lips. 

“Relax,” the blond murmured when he pulled back an inch or two for air. “Uli’s there. You think his parents would let him get into drugs?”

Zoro made a soft noise of discontent, but he slid Wado into his belt as well so both hands could come around the cook’s waist.

“Vivi’s not the perfect princess you seem to think she is. And Kohza sure as hell isn’t a stranger to shit like that,” Zoro grumbled. 

In any case, it was Akashi that worried him. His dad, Shanks, was one of the coolest guys they knew, certainly cooler than Luffy, and maybe even cooler than Ace. And the kid’s mom, Makino, was chill. But that was just it….they were _too_ chill. 

Sanji poked a finger to the deep furrow in Zoro’s brow.

“Wrinkles,” he warned, and decided to remedy that with a kiss to the same spot. “Honestly, mosshead, let her be. You never used to worry about this shit.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have a _teenager…”_ Zoro grumbled.

“An _adult,”_ Sanji reminded. “She’s eighteen now. And soon, she’ll graduate and go off to college in the fall, and you’ll be a lonely old man with an empty nest and no more control over her~”

“Urgh, shut up, don’t say that…” Zoro muttered, knocking his forehead into the cook’s and closing his eyes. 

Sanji just snickered. As if Zoro ever had any control over his daughter anyway. She’d never gotten herself into any trouble (yet), and here the idiot was, acting like he’d had to constantly keep tabs on her.

Another annoyed sound from the swordsman, then he’d tilted his head to press lips to Sanji’s, kissing him slowly. He was tired after a long day of classes; he hadn’t seen Sanji all day, and the cook had done nothing but mess with him since appearing in the doorway. He needed to unwind. But what else was new.

Sanji kissed him back, and he felt the cook’s arms slide around his shoulders more comfortably, Zoro reciprocating by pulling him flush against him, hands working to untuck his white dress shirt so he could run them over smooth, milky skin. 

Zoro’s lips shifted, after a minute, to press tender kisses along Sanji’s jaw, down to his neck where he knew the cook was sensitive, and also particularly delicious.

The blond made a soft noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head to give Zoro better access. 

Callous hands slid up Sanji’s back, sending pleasant shivers down his spine, and Sanji turned his head slightly to kiss Zoro’s face, just in front of his ear. 

_“She got the scholarship, Zoro,”_ he whispered somewhat breathlessly. _“It’s all fucking happening.”_

He felt Zoro’s lips turn up against the skin of his throat, then a teasing scrape of teeth before Zoro lifted his head to look Sanji in the eye. 

“I know,” he replied with a grin. “You didn’t tell her about the restaurant.”

“I said before,” Sanji reminded, an excited grin coming to his face immediately after, raising a hand to brush the backs of knuckles over Zoro’s temple. The swordsman felt Sanji’s heartbeat pick up against his chest in excitement. “I don’t want to until I officially sign the papers. Pudding warned me I could still lose it before that. She almost lost her new place to a higher bidder last year.”

Zoro smirked and leaned in to give a reassuring peck to his lips.

“Right, well, okay, Mr. Paranoid. First, don’t listen to _her,_ and second, you put a deposit down for it. You’re not gonna lose it,” he stated, and then the look on his face turned entirely mischievous, and maybe a little lecherous at that, before he asked, “What about getting married?”

Sanji dropped his head back, rolling his eyes dramatically to the ceiling, though he stayed right where he was with his arms around the dumb musclehead. 

“I told you that too! Do you not _listen_ to me ever? Not until after Tana’s graduation! Let her have her damn moment in the spotlight!” He scoffed loudly. “Can’t even get a decent proposal out of you, anyhow…”

Zoro looked pensive for a second before an idea seemed to strike him, and he quirked a brow handsomely. 

“Well, you wanna go look at rings this weekend?”

Sanji stomped on his foot hard.

“Fuck no! _Surprise_ me with one, dammit!” he complained, looking more than a little pleased with himself when Zoro let out a high-pitched cry of pain and doubled over his crushed foot. 

“If you’re so concerned about making shit perfect, why don’t you ask _me?”_ Zoro grunted out, trying to retaliate with a stomp of his own, but having no such luck as the cook danced away entirely. 

“Because you wouldn’t appreciate any romantic lengths I’d go to!” Sanji exclaimed, avoiding Zoro’s hand when he tried to pull him back. 

“Hmm…” Zoro thought. Then he gave an evil smirk. “Nah, probably not.”

He made another lunge for the cook, but this time, Sanji struck out with a leg, knocking Zoro’s arm away easily, much to the swordsman’s irritation.

“I swear,” Sanji huffed. “Why did I even bother falling for you. I put all that effort into figuring my shit out, all for _you_ and your shitty feelings and for _what?”_

Zoro’s jaw dropped open, looking entirely offended by the asshole cook, and he acted fast. He shot out his hand again, grabbed the cook’s ankle while it was raised, and gave him a hard yank so he nearly lost his balance. Instead, Sanji could only hop forward on one foot awkwardly before Zoro snatched up his flailing wrist with his other hand and threw him down onto the mats. 

The cook was still reeling from the impact, lying there flat on his back, head spinning a bit, when Zoro was suddenly atop him, crawling over to straddle his hips. A bruising kiss followed, one that Sanji was powerless to avoid. Not that he really wanted to anyway.

Sanji reciprocated, of course, despite his bitching from a minute ago, fisting a hand in Zoro’s hair and arching his back to press closer to the other man. 

_“Because I love you,”_ Zoro finally answered the cook’s question between kisses, voice low and rough in Sanji’s ear, and the blond grinned, nipping teeth at Zoro’s bottom lip, and pressing another kiss a second later to make up for it. 

Zoro was right, but he wouldn’t be telling the mosshead that, not with words at least, though his kisses did turn a bit more tender, a bit more sentimental. 

Zoro did love him, and that was incredible. It never ceased to make him _feel_ incredible, that someone as strong as Zoro would hold him in such high regard, that he’d found the best friend and lover he’d ever had all wrapped up in a ball of moss. It was ridiculous, and amazing at the same time, and it made him feel more important and _wanted_ than he ever could have imagined, certainly more than he had in his first thirty-one years of life until the brute had angrily stormed his apartment. 

The swordsman lowered his body, sinking more of his weight slowly onto the cook, Sanji’s pulse racing when his lips again graced his neck. 

Sanji had given him everything, restored everything in him, and he hadn’t cared how fucking long it had taken after that first impulsive kiss of his. He didn’t care that Sanji had been reluctant---understanding and desperate to make him happy, but reluctant nonetheless. He didn’t care that it had taken several months afterward for the cook to even kiss him back, close to a year before they agreed to, tentatively, be a couple. 

Zoro didn’t give a fuck. He was just thankful that Sanji had reached back, that his own foolish spur-of-the-moment decision hadn’t ruined anything and had, in fact, changed his life for the better. He would have waited forever if he’d known that he was going to get _this_ in the end.

Though he supposed that it had really started with his daughter. _She’d_ found Sanji, after all. 

“Look,” he panted over the cook’s lips eventually when they paused for air, hands having undone Sanji’s shirt buttons at some point, now massaging up and down his sides, coming low over his hips. “We can have whatever damn kind of wedding you want. Just….don’t invite your brothers. Your sister’s allowed, but not them. Come to think of it, maybe we should ban Luffy too.”

Sanji chuckled breathlessly, fingers playing gently with Zoro’s earrings as he caught his breath too. 

“My brothers wouldn’t _want_ to come. They haven’t said a damn word to me since they got out of Impel, and that’s how I’d like to keep it.”

“Cool,” Zoro replied. “Then you can tack ‘Roronoa’ onto the end of your name and separate yourself from them even more.”

Sanji made a face.

“Did Kuina take your last name?” he asked. 

The swordsman opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut again and frowned.

“No…” he eventually admitted sulkily. “She didn’t wanna be _Mrs._ Roronoa….she thought it sounded weird.”

The cook laughed, shifting his hand to cup Zoro’s cheek, stretching a thumb to brush over that pout on Zoro’s lips. 

“Well, duh. At the very least, ‘Vinsmoke’ is still a much cooler name. So why don’t you take _mine?”_ he urged teasingly.

“Oh, come on, cook! You too?” Zoro screeched in protest, but it only made Sanji laugh harder.

“Fuck yeah!” Sanji insisted. “I’m with Kuina on this!”

Something about that statement had the swordsman’s heart flutter stupidly in his chest. It was one of the many things he loved about Sanji, that he actively brought up Kuina. She was never a topic to be avoided. The cook had never even met her, but he still gave her life, and for that alone, Zoro couldn’t help but dive in to kiss him again appreciatively. 

He felt Sanji smile into the kiss, the cook’s fingers sliding back to thread in his hair again, more gently this time, though his lips were beginning to move with increasing need, hips jerking closer to Zoro automatically, eager to press against those hands still wandering over his exposed torso.

 _“There’s one good thing about Tana going out for the night to do drugs…”_ he breathed, and Zoro immediately got what he was implying. Hell, he’d actually had the same thought. 

A slight groan as he nosed against Sanji’s cheek. 

“I dunno if I can wait till we get home…” he said, then grinned impishly. “Storage closet? I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Tell who?” the cook asked, hands moving down to stroke over Zoro’s back to distract himself from the heat coiling in his gut. “You _literally_ own the place.”

A rumbling chuckle, and Zoro kissed his cheek. 

“Good point,” he said, then sat up. 

Sanji followed, expecting Zoro to quickly move off him, but he didn’t. 

Instead, the swordsman took Sanji’s face in hands and looked into his eyes seriously, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips that came from pure affection.

“I love you, Sanji,” he murmured, and the cook’s smile was pure happiness in response. 

He took one of Zoro’s hands in his and kissed his fingertips.

“I love you too, Zoro.”

* * *

* * *

**__**

**_~END~_ **

****

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who's read, commented, left kudos, everything! I'm happy to have found so many readers, and I hope to be back soon with a new story! 
> 
> **If you're interested in a little bonus, check out my companion piece to this fic, "Snitch: Moments" for more of Zoro and Kuina's past, as well as Zoro and Sanji's future. ;) **


End file.
